


But You Don't Even Like Coffee

by BloodthirstyKitten, Kera_moondust



Series: Don't Work In Customer Service (All the Patrons are Assholes) [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Retail, Demon Karkat, F/F, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, JohnKat Centric, M/M, Multi, POV Second Person, Polyamory, Slime John, Thanksgiving Dinner, This Is Not How You Romance, monsterstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodthirstyKitten/pseuds/BloodthirstyKitten, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kera_moondust/pseuds/Kera_moondust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No SBURB Coffee Shop AU in which Karkat Vantas simply attempts to get through his second year of college while working part-time in a small locally owned coffee shop, facing such trials as “why the fuck do those two assholes keep coming back,” “why do they keep ordering coffee they never drink anything you make,” and “HOW MANY TIMES CAN THEY KNOCK OVER THE SAME THREE TABLES OH MY GOD.”</p>
<p>Includes one (1) easily irate demon, one (1) long suffering objecthead, one (1) often-clueless slime boy, one (1) natural disaster walking, one (1) moth girl, multiple fish people, one (1) werewolf, one (1) dragon, and several instances of things that should really get somebody banned from a coffee shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kera_moondust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kera_moondust/gifts).



** > Enter Name**

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you fucking hate coffee. No, okay, that’s a lie, you don’t hate coffee. Coffee is great. You drink that shit so often you could probably replace your blood with a caffeine drip and there would be literally no difference because you’re a broke college kid and when you’re not working your crappy part time job you’re chugging coffee like you’ll fucking die if you don’t because you have so much material to study it’s not even funny. It’s the part where you make the coffee that you fucking hate.

Then again, anybody would hate coffee when they have to make hundreds of the fucking cups every god damn day and somehow you became the coffee expert so guess what you do exclusively and repeatedly at a little place called LOLCAT Café! You’re the fucking barista, it’s you, and you’re the only one that your boss calls “compurrtent” enough to put these convoluted coffee mixtures together. You think it’s because you’re a picky fucker. Or it could be because they know you don’t really like doing the whole people thing and people order coffee a hell of a lot more then tea, so you’re more likely to be making things rather than manning any sort of register. That is not your job and there are a lot of very good reasons for that. 

However if you’re being honest, you’d still rather be making tea. You’re pretty sure it would be perfect if you could make tea and also not talk to anyone. Tea’s much less aggravating than coffee, or at least it seems so from your end. Your coworker, former classmate, friend, and sister to the owner, Nepeta Leijon, assures you that tea is just as annoying to make but she loves every minute of it, “:33”. You’d say you could hear the cat face in her voice as she talks but you don’t have to, since she can make it very easily. It comes with the whole “being a sphinx” thing.

** > Wait what. **

What?

** > Reflect on Nepeta being a sphinx for a second **

What’s there to reflect on? She just came out of puberty with a lioness’s body and black/blonde bird wings and, well, if it looks like a sphinx and sounds like a sphinx and says it’s a sphinx, it’s most likely a sphinx. You came out as a demon, who are you to judge? 

She can probably use magic to make herself look less sphinxy but she thinks her wings are the absolute cutest! And she’s not really willing to put them away.

** > You make no sense **

If you want exposition you’re looking at the wrong narrator.

** > Fine, continue to hate coffee **

That’s totally a thing you can do.

You’ve just finished pushing another cup of “Catamel Meowciato” (what is it with sphinxes and the cat puns, honestly, you don’t go around making demon puns all the time, not that you can think of any) towards the pickup counter and barking out the bland ass name scrawled on the cup when the door opens, sending the annoying chime over the door into a flurry of discordant notes. At this Nepeta rears up on her hind legs to put her strangely humanoid lion’s paws onto the Order Here counter and call out, “Welcome to the Land of Little Cubes and Tea Café!” 

You turn to look at the doorway purely out of reflex, because you always look at the doorway when that bell clangs its assault on your eardrums, and your eyes fall on what looks like the derpiest fucking slime boy and the douchiest phoenix you have ever seen in your entire life. The former has the goofiest buckteeth in the existence of ever; the other’s wearing sunglasses indoors. Sunglasses indoors are an automatic notch on the douche-o-meter in your book.

“Is LOLCAT really short for that?” Asks the bucktoothed wonder with his bright grin, walking up to the counter. You quietly thank any powers that be that he doesn’t leave wet footprints on the floor; you all take turns cleaning after work and today’s your lucky day to mop and scrub after hours. You then quietly retract all those thanks you just gave because the phoenix boy walks after his friend with oversized blond and red wings twitching behind him and promptly knocks over the only table in the entire café with an open sugar jar and makes the biggest fucking mess you’ve ever fucking seen. He doesn’t even jump and say sorry, just picks it back up and skirts around the huge sugar ring. You think you notice the red at the tips of his wings spreading across his appearance, but you could be imagining things. His face still remains mostly impassive, so you’re definitely seeing things. Great.

You hate your job.

His slime friend, who had actually jumped at the sound of a table crashing to the floor, did what you wanted to do and thumped the offender in the chest. “Dave! What the fuck!” He looks over at you with the brightest blue eyes to ever be set into pale green ooze ever, probably noticing that you’re glaring daggers into his friend Dave. Personally, you’d like to call him something more along the lines of “Shades McDouchefuck.” You like that nickname it has a nice ring to it and is completely fitting; it’s either that or something along the lines of insufferable prick. 

“Accident.” Dave shrugs, pulling those giant wings closer to him. They’re red now, almost obscenely bright red (Terezi would laugh and say they smelled like cherries if she were here), and fade into blonde towards the top, which is almost completely gone. He’s blonde, of course he’s blonde, all phoenixes are blonde because phoenixes only come in one fucking color. He’s also got a feather braided into his hair, it’s barely long enough to support a braid and yet there it is, bright red and offending and braided into his hair as if it belongs there. It’s probably one of his too. Jesus. You think you can see just the slightest bit of downy feathers fluffing up from his skin. That’s a little weird. Yep, you’ve completely gone fucking crazy. That has to be it. He looks completely chilled, and in your experience, people only monster out when they’re flustered. Which he is not. 

The slime fusses around, pushing the table out of harm’s way. You appreciate the gesture, futile as it is, and proceed to quietly appreciate him. He’s got two lays of color to him, translucent green lying over an opaque blue core. That’s what keeps people from seeing their skeletons and organs, you remember, since liquid-based organisms usually still have some semblance of structure. He’s tall and filled out, not a rail like his friend and not compact like you. He looks soft and gentle and, shit, kind of really cute. You sort of wonder just how slimy his skin really is, he doesn’t appear to be leaving any residue on shit, though he hasn’t really touched anything over then his friend at this point. 

“Oh no, it’s okay!” Nepeta assures her customers, backing up and taking paws off the counter. She smiles a grin full of sharp teeth that’s only a little bit threatening and leans forward to inspect the damage as if she couldn’t see it when her unnecessary (but admittedly kind of endearing) hello position made her at least two feet taller. “We’ll get it, don’t worry.” And by we, she means whoever doesn’t have to service them. You kind of hope they order coffee.

Slimeboy looks uncertain but he slides up to the counter anyway, pursing his lips and squinting at the menu. He’s got the dorkiest glasses too, and you let yourself add it to the list of why you keep calling him adorable. The files in your brain read: Persons you’ll never see again > that guy with Shades McDouchefuck > Glasses and grins. You’ve kind of got a thing for glasses and grins. You like to file away the cute ones in your brain, so you can revisit the thought of their image later. You organize some things and pretend to be busy.

They take a million and a half years to order and by the time they’ve actually told Nepeta what it is that they want, you kind of want to beat them both over the head with a mop because you’ve got kind of a thing against those assholes who go up to the counter and take five hundred years to make up their minds.

Nepeta pushes both cups your direction with a bright grin, lightly hip-checking you with her furry rump as she busies herself getting a broom. Coffees it is, then, you think as you decode the olive green scrawl on the stupid coffee-cup material (seriously you have no idea what it is, cardboard? Paper? Plastic? Styrofoam?).

Dave Strider is messily written on one, proclaiming that he wants a “Skinny Vanilla Latte” (one of the few items on the menu that isn’t cat punned). It’s such a stereotypical hipster drink you kind of want to roll your eyes at it because you’ve made it so many damned times. The other just reads John. Well, John and “Espurresso Meowciato X33.” (That last bit was Nepeta’s own thing; she tends to put little happy faces on the cups that have cat puns on them. Most of the cups have cat puns on them.)

You roll your eyes and get to it. You watch the walking disaster and John out of the corner of your eye as they sit down (with apparently some fuss, maybe a lot of fuss, Shades McDouchefuck kept looking around and moving to a different table for some reason) and chat at each other merrily. You might be imagining it but you swear you can feel eyes at the back of your head. It’s kind of unnerving, actually. You tell yourself he’s probably just impatiently waiting for the coffee you have under your hands as you carefully put the one on the pick-up counter. Dave can wait a few god damn seconds for you to do his. “John!”

He jumps you think you can see his slime jiggle a bit unsettlingly with the sudden movement, pushes the glasses up on his nose and scrambles to the counter. You watch him for a brief moment as he grabs the cup, you can see greenish blue residue beginning to settle onto it, well that answers one question you guess. You turn away for a moment before you call out the next name. Shades McDouchefuck doesn’t jump, you’re kind of resentful, he just comes and grabs his stupid hipster coffee when you bark out “Dave Strider!”

You glance at the clock as Strider walks back to where he and John have set up shop. Your lunch break won’t be for another half-hour or so at least. Fuck. You’re starving, and while you could sink your teeth right into Jane’s pastries here you know Meulin, your boss, would probably beat you half to death for eating on the job since you’re not paying for it. Also it’s unprofessional. And you’d rather be downstairs in the food court of Skaia Mall so you can meet up with your asshole of a friend Sollux and collectively bitch about your jobs. Your friendship is basically complaints and bitching and you’re pretty okay with that.

LOLCAT Café isn’t a busy place, and with the two coffees made. You decide to join Nepeta in cleaning up; hip-checking her right back towards the bathroom to wash off the dexterous paws she uses for walking and grabbing. She manages to stand on her hind legs surprisingly well and doesn’t even stumble as you grab broom and dustpan from her. You’d probably slam flat on your face in her position since you’re a fucking dumbass with enough motor control to accidentally run into an open door.

You’re furiously trying to track down the extent of the sugary damage (jesus that blast radius) when a very loud noise suddenly gets your attention. It’s a very loud and very ugly “BLERGH!” and it’s coming from one particular table seating a feathery asshole and green-blue slime. In fact, it’s coming from the green-blue slime. John, you remember, is making the dumbest fucking face you have ever seen on anyone in your brief existence, lips pulled comically back and tongue lolled out and he’s making that disgusted face at his coffee.

His coffee that you made.

God damn it. Did you fuck something up? You swear you didn’t fuck something up. You work irate all the time. It’s kind of like a default with you. Shift coming up, well, better put on your best angry face and hate everything for the next four to six hours! It doesn’t allow you to fuck up, if anything you just get anal about the details and measurements of everything. You wonder if you should go over and see if there’s anything wrong but you get a bit distracted with glowering at Strider’s wings.

Strider’s wings are swinging about haphazardly as he leans left and right on the falsely-ornate chair, coming dangerously close to other tables. He’s got his phone out, holding it up like he’s a fucking master photographer because that’s what he’s doing; he’s taking a shitty fucking picture of his coffee. You could laugh if you weren’t so concerned that those flailing things were going to crash into a chair or a table or, oh god, why is he sitting so close to the coffee display, please stop that right now.

It’s a miracle when he does stop. He probably does because John waved a hand in front of his face and hissed something quietly that you couldn’t hear. You’re a demon with some pretty good senses, but only if you tap into them. The only one you can’t flick on and off are your eyes, which’re always a pretty intense red. It lets you see things in extreme detail, though, which can be pretty useful actually.

You’re watching them so intently that you actually see John take a drink and almost immediately drop it to the table, face pinched tight and hand clapped to his mouth. You think you can hear a high pitched “mmmnerghmmgluhiiiih”-esque whine through the drippy fingers. You’re torn between laughing and getting angry because he obviously doesn’t like your coffee.

You get angry. It’s kind of a default. You get angry and quietly seethe as he continues to take these tentative sips and attempt to muffle the dumbest noises and you get back behind the counter and wipe down some equipment and pretend you’re not angry.

You focus on their table though, using your supernatural hearing. You guess now is as good a time as any to see what the hell is going on over there.

“Dude, just give it a rest.” 

“No way, I’m gonna drink it!”

“It’s fucking hilarious bro, but seriously you’re gonna break something. You don’t even have anything to break and you’re gonna break something. Your face is going to get stuck like that, just watch, it’s gonna dry stuck in that weird ass grimace and bam, you’re making that face for the rest of your days.”

“Bluh Dave, you’re being dumb. I can’t just throw it out! I bought it and I’m gonna drink it, just watch. Plus I have bones, remember?”

“Egbert, I will throw it away if you don’t stop that right now.”

“You can’t stop me!” There’s another groan-whine-bleh that you imagine is John taking a drink and regretting all of his life choices.

“That’s it, give it here.” You hear what sounds like a scuffle and you turn to direct your best glare in their direction, worried again for the tall display of different kinds of coffee Meulin likes to arrange in fancy patterns every morning she comes in to work. It’s really pretty and really complicated and you’d like to keep it from going over. It’s shaped like a teapot this week and you are not going to be the person to reconstruct said coffee teapot. 

Your glare is perfect, capable of cowing even the most enraged of customer and, to be completely honest, there’s very little more difficult to shut up than a pissed off middle aged white woman whose soy latte isn’t exactly right. You’re a little late though, considering Strider already has both his and John’s coffees in both hands and he’s got a pretty good beeline for the trash can going on.

Did he even drink his latte?

The answer is no, no he didn’t, because the thump that comes from the bottom of the barrel is the sound of a completely full cup and a half full one. You attempt not to rip the rag you’re holding in two and succeed, for the most part. You think the middle might be a little thinner than it was before. You’re grateful that you’re not freakishly strong like Nepeta’s not-boyfriend that she loves in all ways but actual romance, because you’d probably have broken basically everything by this point.

“Let’s bounce, dude.”

John puts his arms behind his back and makes dumb faces of petulance. “You’re lame Dave, totally uncool. The uncoolest.”

Strider frowns, just the slightest. “Dude. No.”

He’s not prepared for hands at his sides skirting up to his armpits and you watch in horror as those fucking wings (you’re starting to have a thing against phoenix wings, sorry all other phoenixes, Dave Shades McDouchefuck Strider has ruined all of his kind for you) spasm out with the loud SNERK of stifled laughter and there go some tables, crash to the ground, oh look, killed by giant feathery wings. You’d hold a fucking funeral for the things if you could think of anything other than something along the lines of “oh fuck not again.” Shades McDouchefuck’s appearance has visibly altered, you see the red fading to orange on his wings, and he’s got these downy little feathers fluffed all around his neck, his hair visibly disturbed. He looks comical, somewhere between frightened baby chicken and unsettled owl. You’re surprised his legs haven’t reverted to digitigrade with how unsettled he looks. 

Irately, you wave the offenders out of your café with a low and probably less than polite “No, leave it, I’ll deal with it, have a nice day.” You keep the profanities locked behind your teeth somehow and they leave with one bright “Bye!” from John.

Nepeta has the broom out by the time you reach the counter. Twenty minutes until your lunch break.

You hate your job.

** > Go to lunch **

The first words that come out of your mouth the second you see the glowering laptop-headed asshole you call one of your best friends are something along the lines of “I’m sorry I’m late there were these fucking idiots in the café today it was literally the worst thing in the entire universe okay, there is nothing worse-“

He cuts you off with a hand thrust in your direction, the helpful graphic of a stick figure beating its head against a table flashing across his face, and the words “I don’t even want to hear it KK, you have no idea what true pain is, come back when you’ve dealt with the fucking asshole I had to endure today and yesterday.” lisped in your direction.

“Okay but there was these morons, two of them Sollux, two of the worst pungent probing shitmonkies in the entire universe, do you even know how many tables they knocked over, they knocked over fucking TABLES in the café and for some reason Nepeta hasn’t banned them-“

“No, KK, shut up, you want to talk about people who should be banned, this fishfaced fuck came in yesterday and there was water everywhere, literally on everything and everywhere, I had to dry the fucking sweaters twice, TWICE, I should not have to dry the same stupid sweaters twice back to back-“

“There was sugar literally everywhere, over like the entire floor and there’s Nepeta behind the counter trying not to track the granular cavity crystals all over the place and there I am, armed with nothing but a broom and a dustpan, hurriedly sweeping up the disaster zone before somebody can come in and bash their head open on the ground because sugar’s fucking slippery on tile-“

“Aradia fell flat on her ass, hooves everywhere, and I’m on my hands and knees mopping this shitfest up with a towel, a fucking towel, do I look like Equius? The answer is no, shut up-”

“They didn’t even like my coffee Sollux, Shades McDouchefuck just threw his out and Buckteeth McWonder wouldn’t stop pulling stupid ass faces every couple seconds-“

“Water all over the glasses, I had to clean all of them-“

“Didn’t even try to fix things-“

You two are basically dissolving into a slew of complaints and wild gestures, yours exponentially more flail-tastic than Sollux’s. He gets the privilege of little digital stick figures illustrating his point right across his face, you somehow end up pantomiming both tickling and wings flying out at the same time. Everybody in the food court pretends not to see you guys acting like inebriated dumbshits, or at least everybody who’s been there more than twice. This is a regular occurrence and you two are stupid.

It takes about five minutes for you two to successfully vent out all the really loud and obnoxious frustration and finally sit down. It’s always good to bitch at each other. You eat shitty hamburgers and trade more coherent retellings of your last hour for a more accurate retelling of Sollux’s last hour.

Apparently this fishy fucker (Sollux’s words, straight from the speakers), came into the store in a bubble. There was then a three minute rant about how he’s in a bubble (apparently fishfolk can get legs if they really try hard enough (you vaguely remember that Kanaya’s girlfriend is fishfolk herself and you probably figured as much anyway)) and there’s really no reason for him to have a water bubble. But there he was, in that bubble, trying on clothes and fucking them up. Sollux was roped into something akin to “personal fashion assistant” and got the honest to god privilege of holding each dripping wet scarf. In the end, he bought nothing. Of course.

“And that’s the short version,” he lisps at you as he checks the power cord attaching his brain to an outlet. He doesn’t actually eat food on his lunch breaks (how would he, he’s got no fucking mouth); Sollux just takes out a power cable and sticks it in the nearest outlet. There’s a small [charging] sign at the top right corner.

You admit it’s pretty bad. You have to admit it’s pretty bad, you don’t get a choice in the matter. You’re so fucking glad you don’t work retail. You quietly admit defeat in the “who had the shittier shift” category and move on to challenge him in the “who’s got the worst professor” category. Both of you attend The University of Prospit and somehow you managed not to realize it for the longest fucking time last year. You were in the same dorms. Your current roommate was his old roommate. You guys have the same fucking major for christ’s sake, both of you trudging through Computer Science like fucking champs.

Well okay, you’re trudging like some little old lady walking through knee deep mud in a swamp. Sollux is breezing through with stupid memes on his screen and you can imagine the shit-eating grin he would have if he, you know, could actually grin. You kind of suck at the whole computers thing. Often you sit at your desk and rant and scream and rave and maybe sometimes you actually break down crying when talking to Kanaya because you’re convinced you won’t get through the semester without failing all your classes because you just can’t understand coding for shit. You’ll get it eventually, though. You always get it eventually, you tell yourself firmly.

“KK, these fucking teachers don’t know shit.” If Sollux had eyes you bet he’d be rolling them at you. “I could do all these assignments in my fucking sleep. It’s child’s play!”

“Maybe your class, I’m dying over here.” You check the time to see you’ve got maybe like five more minutes before you have to pretend that making coffee has been your dream in life all along.

“No offence, but you kind of suck.”

“Fuck you too.” You shoot him a run-of-the-mill glare and scarf down what remains of lunch with a pretty ugly noise because you’re hungry and this place has very little good food. “I’m awesome at this shit kay, the best fucking thing in the universe. And fuck you for insinuating otherwise.” You’re bluffing about as hard as you could possibly bluff. You’re probably the worst, or at least pretty far down.

“You couldn’t code your way out of a wet paper bag.” He says with a well-practiced deadpan. He’s worked on that for years, you swear. Standing up, he unplugs the cord attaching his face to the outlet while you hurriedly gulp down the rest of your shitty carbonated sugar slurry and attempt to glare at him at the same time.

“Whatever, Sollux. What-the-fucking-ever, I’ve got to get back to being the best fucking barista this mall has ever seen.” You roll your eyes in the most exaggerated manner you can just in case the sarcasm didn’t get across.

“Yeah, yeah, I was supposed to be back to work like ten minutes ago but I had to wait for you because your sorry ass was late!”

You flip him the finger as you skulk off back towards LOLCAT Café.

** > ==> **

The next time you work is two days after the sugar-table-chair fiasco, once again making coffee after coffee after coffee. You don’t have to clean today, thank fuck. It’s about half an hour before your lunch break again when the door clangs open setting off its stupid chime, Nepeta calls out her usual greeting, and a strangely familiar voice goes: “So does LOLCAT really stand for that?”

You look over still out of habit and there’s a blue-green slimeboy with eyes shaming the ocean for color staring up at the menu, buckteeth hooked over his lower lip. The shades-wearing phoenix quietly walks in behind him.

You immediately hate your life preemptively and decide to tell yourself that no, John isn’t fucking cute, he’s a customer with an annoying as shit friend who needs to please turn around and leave as soon as he’s done. And yet you still can’t help but admire the way the color of his core shows through his top layer. The layering of the colors is maybe, just maybe a little bit cool. You will give him that and only that.

“Nah, I just like to call it that.” Nepeta says confidentially, a hand brought up to her face to execute the exaggerated stage whisper. “It’s super cute, don’t you think?”

“The cutest,” John agrees with a vigorous nod that you resolutely don’t file under Endearing. “Can we get, uh…” He pauses, squinting at the menu. “A, um. Dave, what did you want?”

“Skinny Vanilla Latte.”

“Right! So, uh, that for a Dave Strider and…” You start pulling things together for Strider’s drink. “And a, um, White Chocolate Meow-cha? For John.”

“Meowcha. Like mocha! But meow!” Nepeta tells him as she writes and hands them your way with a cheery “Here you go, Karkitty!”

You take them from her with a noise that could potentially be you saying “thanks” or “okay” or “dear god why” and busy yourself as she grins and John laughs.

“Karkitty?”

You don’t respond because it’s not your job to talk to customers. It’s your job to bark out names and make coffee and that’s fucking it. Nepeta, however, leans over to continue the conversation about you. Your ears burn as you listen.

“His name is actually Karkat but Karkitty’s pawesomer.”

“Karkat? As in, like, beep-beep-meow? Car and cat, right?”

“There’s ks, not cs, but yeah! Just like that! He’s got a super cool name. And I’m Nepeta!”

“I’m John!” He says brightly, then blushes as he backs up towards the same table they sat on two days ago. Strider’s already sitting there, asshole wings lolled out behind him. At least his back isn’t to the coffee display this time. You pause for a brief moment wondering what exactly Strider could possibly be doing before it occurs to you that he’s photographing his coffee. Why the fuck? “But, uh, you already knew that.”

“Yeah I did.” She says and gives one of those smiles that you imagine when she types “x33” and turns to the new customer walking through the door. (You didn’t know him and you didn’t care.) “Welcome to the Land of Little Cubes and Tea Café!”

Out of spite you make a Skinny Vanilla Latte first this time, because you’re petty and John called you beep-beep-meow. What the actual fuck. Your name is unfortunately easy to fuck up and do something quirky. Nepeta calls you Karkitty. Sollux just goes by KK. .” Terezi likes to laugh your name out as Karkles, You’re pretty sure Sollux’s girlfriend called you Karcrab at some point, assholes who think they’re your friend try to call you “Kitkat” the list goes on and on. Alas you have digressed. The point is; most of the people who give you nicknames are your friends so you can just let it slide. Well except for the assholes, but at least you can punch them in the face usually. You’re kind of thankful he didn’t call you that, of all things. But he is not your friend. So the innocent botchery of your name manages to tick you off anyway. 

“Dave Strider!”

Shades McDouchefuck ends up toppling the chair he was sitting on and the one behind him. You wince and turn away so you don’t accidentally rage glare at him. Of course he’d make a mess, he’s got those terrible gigantic wings; how could he not get rid of them? You think the colors are shifting closer to red again just like yesterday. 

“John!”

He comes up with a bright look in his eyes and a nervous bounce in his step. “Hi Karkat!” he chirps as cold drippy hands clasp the cup you hadn’t fully put down yet. He touches your hand and his cheeks get a faint bluer tinge. “Thanks!”

“No problem,” you mutter in your not-as-grouchy-as-usual-but-probably-not-customer-service voice. It’s the usual voice you adopt when you’re trying to be friendly to customers. You don’t really do people interaction really well at work. You’re caustic and loud at the best of times and more often than not make exactly the wrong impression. That’s why Nepeta works the counter and not you.

John ends up making ridiculous faces as Strider snaps a few pictures of his coffee. Both cups go in the trash mostly full and then the trash can falls over because Feathery Asshole trips Goofy McStupidname and there he goes into the trash there goes the trash all over the floor, along with it all the half empty drinks inside of it. There is coffee, tea, cream and other substances all over the floor and it is going to be a giant sticky mess if you don’t clean it up immediately. Shit.

Nepeta rushes over on “oh no are you okay?!” duty as you grumble and head towards the broom closet for a mop.

By the time you exit the closet John has been fished from the trashcan and Shades McDouchefuck is laughing. John looks at least a little perturbed; he’s covered in coffee and whip cream and other such sticky liquid. Lucky for him, he’s sort of made out of a substance pretty close to liquid so the coffee just kind of sinks into his skin and slides off his clothes. They must be hydrophobic fabrics, that’s clever. You bet Kanaya would have a field day with it. You sulk over towards the trash can to mop up your poor, undigested coffee. You take a moment too long looking at John and tell yourself you’re just making sure he didn’t end up getting hurt. The last thing you want is for anybody to know that someone got fucking hurt at the coffee shop while you were working. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

John apologizes, says he’s fine, and grabs Dave by the arm, whisking him out of the Coffee shop while whispering something accusatory into the phoenix’s ears. You think you managed to catch bits and pieces about how he’s turning him into a giant embarrassment, or something. All you know is the floor is going to be sticky. Fucking lovely. 

** > ==> **

The next time they come into the café, Dave Strider orders a Skinny Vanilla Latte and John asks for a “Traditional Catpuccino :33.” Strider takes a picture, of course Strider takes a picture, that’s going to be a thing, isn’t it? Strider is going to take fucking pictures. Dave Strider is a goddamn hipster assbucket. You’d been so good at not getting any of those in your shop. Usually, you know, people fucking drink the shit. Nope. Now you have a hipster nutbag. Maybe you can convince Nepeta to write his name wrong next time.

John, on the other hand, pours roughly twenty sugar packets in his cappuccino. And then as much cream as the cup can hold. You can see the hydrogen bonds forming a bubble just slightly over the rim of the cup. Oh great. Of course you already know that they can’t go a day without making some kind of mess you equate this with the likeness of hyper active puppies that piddle on the floor every time you let them run around inside. 

You watch them, thoroughly unamused, as you wipe down the coffee machine and Nepeta busies herself heating up water. You’re starting to think John doesn’t like coffee to begin with. He spills it onto the counter, both of his shoulders bouncing slushily as he jumps back at the accident. “Shit!” You’re pretty sure he squeezed his cup just ever so slightly and the littler hydrogen bonds just couldn’t take it and broke, into a mess, that you have to clean up, as usual. 

“Dude. What the fuck.” Dave pipes up.

“I didn’t mean to!” is John’s immediate response.

“Dude.”

“Dave don’t you dare ‘dude’ me one more time, I will tell Jade that you’re being dumb come help me.”

Strider reclines, ruffling blond feathers and checking out the pictures on his phone. “Nah.” He then promptly kicks his feet up onto the table. This causes you to freeze and double check your surroundings. Are you in public? Yes, you’re still in public. When did that douchefuck decide it was acceptable behavior to put his feet on tables that people he doesn’t know will eat off of!?

“I’ll get it,” you say as unhappily as customer service will let you. He fusses as you work, trying to help. “No, just go sit down, it’s fine. Take your disg- uh, take what’s left of your coffee and let me. It’s my job.”

“Let the man work, Egbert.”

“Dave, you’re such a butt!”

“Fine plush ass, according to your cou-”

“We are not going there.”

This continues for a while. You sigh, make sure the counter isn’t sticky, and go back to your business. Several face pulls later and a good waste of cream; John allows to Strider to finally throw out his fucking ruined coffee. That coffee had been fucking perfect, goddamn it, you’re fucking great at making coffee and the effort is entirely wasted on him.

“See you later!” John calls as they leave, waving a translucent hand at you. You’re beginning to hate yourself just a bit more than usual; they’re becoming regulars. John may have ended up in your cute customers file on the first day, that file is SUPPOSED to be exclusive to people you will never see again. This throws off your collection, so his status has been officially revoked. It doesn’t even matter that he’s still soft and has dark hair and glasses, or that he might even still be cute. Nope. Not one bit.

The time after that, another chair disaster happens. You hadn’t been paying that much attention, considering every time you pay attention you want to shove somebody’s ass onto a pike and go on a march declaring the victory of the fruity asshole rumpus party. (You try not to think of that too much; the words have memories but it’s still bitterly funny god damn it.) Apparently, from what you could gather in the aftermath, Dave said something.

Of course Dave Shades McDouchefuck Strider said something.

John, of course, decided that the best course of action was to slime his way halfway across the table and tickle the shit out of him. Between the flailing limbs, the high pitched shrieking, and the gross splating noises, you’re surprised the Leijons haven’t permanently banned them. They don’t like to ban regulars, because “return business hell yes :33,” but still. But fucking still.

Later, your only solace as you replace the defeated chairs. (RIP chairs)They’re not actually broken but close enough Strider sure has managed to beat them up in the last couple weeks shit. The only saving grace is the memory of Strider standing up more bird than man; all bright red from head to toe and a huge muff of feathers around his neck. And bird legs. The bird legs were the best part, you think fondly, because the bird legs were just that stupid. It was great. Fabulous. You’re also one hundred percent sure that he ruined his shoes. Containing bird feet in converses? That shit isn’t going to happen. 

Almost cancels out the part where all the chairs went crash and you’re pretty sure this is on purpose at this point. 

The time after that, Nepeta chats up John with a bright grin full of sharp teeth and tells him that earlier that day you’d poured coffee down your shirt when she spooked you. It was iced and you spent the next five minutes trying not to kill anything as you changed in the back while she ran everything like a champ. John laughs and you learn he laughs with his entire body. His skin giggles and his entire being seems to lighten with the motion. Literally, too, his colors literally get brighter and more florescent. You don’t want to say that it has any effect on your mood as a whole. You will be a crotchety asshole all you want, god damn it. You didn’t hand John his coffee with a little less reluctance then usual that day, and he didn’t beam at you like you’re the sun breaking the clouds on days when it seems like there will be nothing but rain. That isn’t a thing. It did not happen. 

Three days after that event John orders a “Catamel Furappuccino” and you mentally fistpump because he actually drinks the fucking thing as Strider dumps his in the trash. You count that as at least one victory and bother to wave back when John shakes his hand at you as though it’s going to fall off. 

Nepeta teases you the rest of your shift because “Awww, Karkitty! You look so happy you could purractically be purring!” Lucky for you, demons don’t purr, but they do go bright red. Fuck. She leans on your back and pokes your cheek whenever there’s a free moment, mewling every detail of your embarrassment.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you glower. She actually hits you with her tail.

“Yes it is! I haven’t seen you this pleased with yourself in ages.” Another gentle boop at your cheek. “Do you liiiiiiiiiiiike him?”

“No!”

“Do you liiiiiiiiiike making coffee for him?”

“No!” You attempt to shrug her off.

“Hee hee!” She actually says that. She actually says “hee hee” as she drops down. You can hear the threes in the air. “I know, you’re just proud.”

“No I’m not.”

She calls you Grumpy Cat instead of Karkitty for the rest of the shift, but doesn’t stop insinuating that you might have “minor doki dokis,” as her sister would say. You think she’s crazy.

The next week Dave ends up overturning two tables when he crashes to the floor since his chair had mysteriously ended up a foot behind his ass. He looks more bird than man at this point, wings starting to form to his arms and face looking a little… beaky. His face is still deadpan, a little pained, as he hauls back up to his feet. John is laughing as you dejectedly head towards the supply closet, glowering at everything. He tries to talk to you as you clean, apologizing for accidentally causing the damage. He runs his mouth so fast you think he might actually be powered by the spoken word. 

“-so anyway Dave’s brother has this really weird business-”

You try your best to mumble just enough to not seem rude but enough to make it apparent that you really don’t want to talk to the boy that personally tries to destroy your ego with every coffee cup thrown in the trash. No matter how cute his face is, the annoyance wins out. You eye his steaming LOLCAT Special mistrustfully.

“-and we were in the basement of this house, right, and Dave’s totally scared out of his mind-“

You wonder if you have it in you to politely tell him to shut up. Your “nice” voice is still something most people mistake for “bitchy and rude.” Your “bitchy and rude” is more along the lines of “snappy and violent” and your “snappy and violent” is somewhere in the range of “flipping shit.” Most people don’t actually see you flip your shit.

“-so that’s how we found out that there’s a dragon with a dildo hoard—“

Okay you’ve had it.

You whirl on him, pointing a broom handle towards his chest. Your chest inflates with the force of the words you’re going to snap at him violently and you’re pretty sure you’re already red in the face. He looks startled, and he should, considering how you can feel your face harden. You’d yell, you want to yell, but Nepeta’s staring at you from behind John, shaking her head violently. Her eyes are blown wide in urgency, making an X with her hands.

You grit your teeth and exhale long and slow, face pinched together.

“Please don’t talk to me while I’m working,” you say through your gritted teeth. He looks nervous and you’re trying so hard not to find it endearing; he’s an annoying shit at the best of times and personally insulting the rest and that’s final. You absolutely do not think about the fact that you can see him trembling it’s like you rattled a plate of Jell-O. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. You’re a little reminded of a puppy getting kicked, or at least a puppy that won’t get its treats. Apparently, conversations with you are treats?? In what universe is your company in any way sought after? You’re an asshole. He somehow thinks you’re not (customer service face, probably, even though yours absolutely sucks).

“It’s fine,” you sigh as you sweep up the last of the sugar disaster. You’re going to make a fucking appeal to get rid of sugar jars in this place. “I just can’t talk very well when I’m on the clock.”

Nepeta gives you a look when you come back behind the counter. It’s a look you’re familiar with, a long suffering one. It’s also half something else, and that half is the part that you don’t know very well.

“What?” You ask, reorganizing as usual. It keeps your hands busy.

She shrugs. “Nothing, I guess.” It’s definitely something and she isn’t going to tell you. Not yet.

You keep your interactions with John Egbert to a minimum after that.

** > ==> **

By the week after that you’ve admitted that Dave Strider and John are officially regulars in LOLCAT Café. You may have had a mini-mental break down when you came to this realization, but nothing that required someone else to come to your immediate rescue. Strider always orders a Skinny Vanilla Latte and John always orders something completely random. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t know what anything on the menu is and chooses the first thing he sees. You’re determined not to find it funny because you work hard on those coffees and watching them go straight in the trash is basically a slap across the face every single time. It’s like what you do isn’t good enough for them, really!

You don’t understand why John doesn’t just order the “Catamel Furappuccino” again because he actually fucking drank the thing. But no, he just continues on his bullshit tornado through the LOLCAT Café coffee menu. 

You’ve been trying your absolute best not to let it get to you. You try to tell yourself that they don’t even like coffee, probably, but in your heart of hearts you don’t believe it. It’s like every and any excuse to hate yourself just sticks like burs to you, especially as the stresses pile up as weeks become months and midterms rear their ugly head.

(You spend more time than you’d like to admit kneeling on the carpet wailing like a baby because you don’t fucking understand anything and you’re so grateful that Gamzee usually goes off and does fuck knows what half the nights because you couldn’t think about what you’d do if he was witness to one of these god awful moments of misery and suffering.)

You feel so sorry for Kanaya, truly. She’s a fucking saint. The most wonderful person you’ve ever known. The beautiful moth-light of your life. She comes over when you need her and quietly shooshes you as you bawl your head off over whatever specific misery has befallen you. She can’t help you with your work but by the time she leaves you at least don’t feel like you’re literally the scum of the earth because you don’t even know how to fucking code.

More than once she’s tried to suggest that you change majors, just as almost everybody else has. It’s evident that you fucking suck. You’re barely passing your classes and that’s with hours and hours of work spent poured into each and every little line of script, hell! You might not even be passing your classes at all if it weren’t for Sollux. You don’t admit it very often but you have some pretty good friends. 

** > Karkat: focus back on work **

You can’t focus back on work because you’re currently sitting in the back on your break with your laptop out and a snarl placed firmly on your face.

“What the heinous dicksmoking pustulefuck is this shit?” You growl to yourself, rubbing harshly at your eyes and trying very hard to keep focused. You’ve got maybe several expressos racing through your bloodstream and by this point you’re spending every waking moment not at work attempting to figure things out for school. You’re sleeping maybe four hours a night if you’re lucky and you’ve cut communication with basically everybody you know beyond your close friends because you can’t divulge the brainpower to give them the time of day. The lines are starting to bleed together and it’s frustrating the fuck out of you because the timer goes off after ten minutes and you’ve literally gotten jack shit done. You don’t know up from down or left from right in this script. It’s due tomorrow and it’s not even a test or anything, this is just a bullshit homework assignment that you’re trying to go back over in some fruitless effort at studying.

Midterms are in a few days and you don’t know shit. You’re basically screwed.

You scrub at your eyes and come out right as Nepeta pokes her head in to check on you. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble and ignore the twisting feeling in your stomach.

It’s about half an hour later of wiping down tables and pouring coffees when John and Dave make their customary appearance. (You wonder how the fuck they can spend so much money on coffee almost every goddamn day.) They talk with Nepeta, Strider even saying a few words, before paying for a Skinny Vanilla Latte and an Iced Coffee with Milk.

It’s routine at this point. You make their coffee, they sit down, you watch Strider’s wings as they shimmy through tables and John tries to make an ass out of his friend. You call their names without even having to look down; John jumps up to get them with a shiny grin and the most perfect blue eyes and you mumble out a “no problem.” He looks almost worried, dripping a bit on the counter, and you know you have to look like absolute shit but the amount of fucks you give can be counted on less than one hand.

Nepeta smiles and jokes with you and you try to smile back at her as you clean up slimeboy’s mess. She’s just turned around to greet a new customer when you catch sight of John gagging on his coffee, spitting out an ice cube and dropping it on the table with a little shove towards Dave, who’s already standing up with his pictures taken and heading towards the trash can and you-

You can’t take this anymore.

Nepeta turns around with a stupid plastic cup in her hand and almost drops it because she sees you standing there like an asshole with what are definitely not tears tracking down your face and your entire body shaking with suppressed sobs. “Are you okay?”

You try to nod and say yes. You make a valiant effort to be coherent. What comes out, however, is a strangled noise that’s quite obviously a sob. And once you start, you can’t stop. You’re trying so hard to keep it together but you have shit control over your emotions and you’re exceptionally compromised as it is. You think you see John staring at you through your tears but your vision’s really blurry with a red tinge and you’ve got your hands up at your face, pressing hard enough against your eyes to see stars. You’re loud and just a step behind bawling and shaking so hard you feel like you’re going to be sick. You can vaguely hear worried talk around you and a sharp “I’m sorry but we’re busy at the moment, please wait five minutes!”

Somehow, you go from standing right behind the counter to sitting back in the break room, gentle paws on your face.

“Karkat. Karkitty. Look at me.” Nepeta’s worried about you. You swallow fresh air in heaving gulps and stare up at her with what’s probably the most unguarded expression you’ve had in public in months, if not years. You can’t keep the glare up; you’re too tired and too worn down. “I’m extending your break and calling Meulin. You can’t work yourself to death! Do you need me to call anybody for you?”

God, you’re pathetic. You can’t even go through a single day at work anymore.

“Kanaya,” you croak out hoarsely, once you can get the sobs to stop. “Can you call Kanaya?” God your sound like shit, you don’t even want to think about what you may look like. You know at least for certain your face is stained pink.

She just pats your knee and thumps your head with hers. “Okay.”

You don’t know how much time has passed before you hear the clack of heels against the floor and there comes Kanaya, lean and beautiful. She’s tall and fluffy-furred with regal angles to her face and always looks perfectly in style even though she has to work all of her outfits around the fact that she’s got several unchangeable muffs of fur because she came out of her change as a moth. Her antennae tickle your face as she drops off her bag and sits down next to you, pulling your face into the fluff around her pale white chest. You’d calmed down a bit, sniffling and just hating yourself quietly rather than loudly and in public. You hate yourself even more for making a scene.

“What’s wrong?” Kanaya asks softly. She’s got a rich voice, low but feminine and refined and so soothing to your ears. If you were in any state to do so, you would probably question what she was doing before she just dropped whatever it was to come console your sorry ass. She probably stopped doing something important. She’s usually doing something important, and always so willing to just completely stop whatever it is and scoop you up in her arms like some superhero. 

You officially collapse into a mess of weepy failure again.

You’re not entirely sure what comes out of your mouth is actual coherent words. You try to say something along the lines of “Midterms are hard and nobody understands” or “I’m going to fail, Kanaya, I’m going to fail and everything I’ve worked for will be for nothing” or “I can’t fail college, what will Kankri say? What will my dad say?” or “I can’t even make coffee right anymore, they never drink it Kan, these assholes come in and never fucking drink my coffee, do I really make shit coffee?” and “I’m worth literally nothing what the fuck is wrong with me?” You’re not really sure if that’s what comes out but you don’t ever care. For all you care you could just be whining incoherently into fluff. It doesn’t matter, you’re a failure anyway. 

She pets your hair through your blubbers soothingly. You think there’s something sharp and angry in her face, but you’re probably imagining it because your eyes are tired. You’re so tired, your eyes ache like a bitch, and your muscles feel like they’re going to just slough right off your bones. Jeez, how much sleep did you even get last night? Basically none, you had fallen asleep at your computer somewhere past 5am. There was an alarm on your phone set for when you needed to be up to get ready for work, which was pretty early this morning. Six? Six-thirty? 

“I hope you know you’re not going back to work.”

“What?” You stare up at her with the most stupidly pathetic look, you know it. You try to school your face back to the hard glare you usually adopt but you’re too tired. Crying takes a lot of out a demon. “No, Kanaya, I- I have to get back to work, my shift’s not over for-“ fuck, how long have you been back here?

“Nepeta informed me over the phone that she and her sister can handle the store without you for a day. Meulin has demanded that you go home and relax so that you don’t pop a brain vessel from stress.” She boops you on the nose, though not unkindly “And you need to not think about work and school for one day, Karkat. Just one. You can return to twisting your mind into knots afterwards.”

The mumble that comes out of your mouth sounds suspiciously like “you can’t stop me” or “but I have so much work to do” and wow, you must be exhausted to say something like that in front of Kanaya. Her lips form a thin painted line and whoop, there you go, and she’s strong for somebody who’s part insect. You don’t even have a choice at this point; you’re up on your feet while she walks around throwing your things into your backpack. She has a firm grip on your wrist pulling you around the room. You would put up a fight if you had the slightest bit of fight in your bones, but you don’t. You’re so tired.

“I can-“

She glares at you and you shut up.

With her soft hands on your shoulders she marches you out with an iron grip, waving cheerfully at Nepeta and Meulin (who apparently came in to handle your fuck up).

“Thanks for the hard work!” Meulin shouts at you, much louder than she needed to but it’s not like she could tell. A sphinx like her sister, she keeps her hair pulled up in a high but messy ponytail for work. She’s got so much hair. The only other person you know with quite that much hair is Sollux’s girlfriend. And ex-girlfriend. “See you next time!” she calls as you’re led out of the café. You glare at the floor disobediently.

Kanaya marches you to her car (something you don’t have; you just walk everywhere and take public transportation because this city is literally the worst place to have a car in ever, also you can’t really afford the gas) and all but throws you into the passenger seat in the politest manner you could ever expect from her. She even buckles you in, in what you assume is a passive-aggressive manner learned from her girlfriend. You have yet to actually meet Rose, but Kanaya’s told you a lot about her, including the passive-aggressive fights she used to have with her “mom.”

It’s a half-hour drive to your house from work on a good day, and this time it takes fifty. Or, at least, you assume it takes fifty. The moment Kanaya folds her wings into the vehicle (specially made for winged monsters like her and your roommate’s boyfriend, Tavros) and starts up the car your head leans up against the window and you don’t quite remember anything due to passing out or at least existing in some vague form of consciousness that was definitely less than awake. 

She wakes you up gently when you get home, nudging you in the general direction of the house. You tense, remembering that she’s not on any friendly terms with Gamzee (like, at all, she’d probably chainsaw him in half or something. That girl can wield a chainsaw so fucking well; she had a bit of a phase a while back. Wore flannel and everything.) and you’re rather glad to find that the apartment is empty. It reeks of brine, meaning Gamzee probably showered recently and got kelpie stink on almost everything he owns in some weird possessive claim. He usually disappears after he showers; you don’t think about what that implies. He’s pretty chill outside of the water though, high off his ass and calling you “his motherfucking best friend” almost all the time, so he’s a pretty good roommate. If he were actually neat and clean and organized, he might even be almost perfect.

You sit your ass down on your bed as Kanaya walks around the room. It’s a small place, cluttered with your crap (large bed, small desk, small lamp, closet gaping open, chair on the floor from where you toppled it over this morning while trying to stand coherently after an almost-all-nighter. (As in, you basically napped for about an hour and a half before jolting awake and forcing yourself to crawl to the computer and chug down cold coffee.) She cleans up all the random coffee cups and sweeps your floor with her wings held up out of the mess, gently ruffling your hair with a perfectly manicured hand every time you say something along the lines of “you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do and you can’t stop me,” she says kindly and pushes you back until you’re lying down.

You fall asleep again in maybe five minutes. You are not sure how long you sleep for but you know you sleep like the dead when you’re that tired. It’s like someone just knocked you out, or you took a bath in some weird ass vat of slime bullshit leaving your brain dreamless and quiet for the whole of eternity. You don’t dream very often anyway, but when you do they are not usually pleasant dreams, when you were younger you used to avoid sleeping all together for days on end. You do it now more out of necessity then anything. 

You wake up feeling a bit rude and very much like a dick. She made you breakfast.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Karkat goes to two events that could have definitely gone better.

**> Karkat: Be future Karkat**

You become future Karkat and stare in almost baffled bewilderment as Dave Strider leaves your establishment with his stupid Skinny Vanilla Latte in his hand. It been about a week since your meltdown, midterms going strong and thoroughly overwhelming you and you’ve still got about an entire pot of expresso pumping through your system but all of that kind of falls out of your brain as you try to process this really strange alteration to your work schedule.

You notice that John’s still there, leaning back in his chair and watching you upside-down with those bright eyes and that goofy grin. He’s got his Traditional Meowchiatto in hand and seems to be only going vertical again to take a swig. He’s not looking at you when he does so you can’t tell if he’s making gross faces but he isn’t writhing in comical agony either.

He tries to talk to you, you think, not like that time beforehand but slower and seemingly more pointed at you specifically. You’re not sure if he was or not since you start trying to run code in your head (you’re certain you’re muttering something awful and you’re glad Meulin’s working today instead of Nepeta; she can’t hear you string together prompts and commands like a crazy person) and by the time you come out of it for lunch he’s gone.

You try to talk to Sollux about it during lunch that day but he doesn’t show. You do text him about three times before giving up.

> TO: SOLLUX CAPTOR  
HEY HUSKTOP WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?  
> TO: SOLLUX CAPTOR  
OKAY SERIOUSLY EVEN I WASN’T THIS LATE THOSE TIMES DEALING WITH SHADES MCDOUCHEFUCK.  
> TO: SOLLUX CAPTOR  
ALL RIGHT FINE I’M LEAVING YOU; GOTTA GET BACK TO WORK, CATCH YOU NEXT TIME CAPTOR.

You’re distracted for about the rest of the day, a bit worried about Sollux being a no-show. He’s almost always a show. You hope he’s okay, for all your snappiness.

**> Be Karkat the next day**

You’re now Karkat the next day, sitting in the living room with your nose shoved so far into this book you’re certain you’re huffing its metaphorical ass, when you get distracted by Sollux’s little icon turning yellow. At this point you’re basically desperate for any sort of help with coding and you’re planning on throwing yourself at his feet begging for some help because if you stare at 

“MQQMPROPS qmprops;  
QMPROPID aQMPropId[NUMBEROFPROPERTIES];  
MQPROPVARIANT aQMPropVar[NUMBEROFPROPERTIES];  
HRESULT aQMStatus[NUMBEROFPROPERTIES];”

for any longer your eyes might actually fall out on the floor.

Of course, you don’t start with that because he’d probably spend the next hour laughing at you.

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG] started pestering twinArmageddons [TA]  at 23:37 ! --

CG: HEY?? I KNOW YOU SOMETIMES HAVE THE BRAIN CAPACITY OF A WRETRECHED INSUFFERABLE GROINSHIT, BUT YOU’RE USUALLY PRETTY GOOD ABOUT SHOWING UP AT THE VERY LEAST. SO ENGLIGHTEN ME, CAPTOR, WHAT *EXACTLY* CAUSED YOU TO FLIP OUT AND MISS THE HIGHLIGHT OF YOUR MISERABLE DAY? I KNOW THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING YOU ENJOY MORE.   
TA: hii two you two kk

The conversation somehow ends up roping you into going to the movies as payment for getting some help. It’s a special showing of Pitch Perfect. You’re not complaining. You love that movie and have it on DVD, though that DVD is lost forever in your dad’s house. You’re not going within twenty feet of that place. Walking in on your dad making out with his girlfriend, Nepeta’s mom, was basically the time you loudly announced “HOLY FUCK I’M MOVING OUT” and got an apartment with Gamzee. When you went back to get some more of your crap a few weeks after you moved in, you decided that your childhood home had to be cursed because you saw way more of Kankri’s ass being groped by his stupid greaser boyfriend than you ever wanted to in your life and swore off ever returning.

(It’s been almost six months and you still haven’t gone back. You really miss half your movie collection.)

After the usual mocking ( “oh my god kk ii’2 ju2t c++ how are you 2o bad at thii2” ) and several hours of attempting to slog through errors in code ( “I SWEAR THIS ISN’T EVEN ENGLISH ANYMORE. THESE SYMBOLS LITERALLY HAVE NO MEANING.” ), you’re honestly nowhere near understanding shit but at least you feel vaguely competent in the way that, you’ve managed to get all your homework done. Even though it was mostly through Sollux’s help. He basically baby-stepped you the whole way, the asshole.

CG: OKAY, THAT’S ALL OF THEM.   
CG: THANKS FOR SAVING MY ASS, CAPTOR.   
CG: I OWE YOU ONE.   
TA: that’2 why you’re goiing two the moviie2 with me kk  
TA: are we done here because ii need two crash and 2o do you  
CG: YEAH WE’RE GOOD HERE.   
CG: TEXT ME MORE ABOUT THE MOVIE IN THE MORNING I’M GOING TO GO MAKE SWEET SWEET LOVE TO MY BED IN MY SLEEP.   
TA: wow  
TA: way more iinformatiion than ii needed two know  
TA: later  
\-- twinArmageddons [TA]  ceased pestering carcinoGenesist [CG]  at 1:40 ! –

You close your laptop and skirt around Gamzee . Your large and bony cloven roommate is staring transfixed at the TV. It’s playing one of his DVDs of really shitty, really colorful cartoons that you don’t care about, but it served as pretty good background noise. His stares up at you with a lazy grin plastered across his face, he’s clutching shitty sugar swill in one hand, he doesn’t speak but his dopey eyes follow you as you turn to enter your room.

“Yeah yeah, night, don’t stay up until sunrise watching that crap. It’s bad for your eyes.” The cartoon has been on since about 8PM. He’s just been hitting replay every time it stops, enthralled by the pretty lights. 

You shut your door behind you, then crash face-first on your pillow, fully intent on sleeping for the next five years.

**> == >**

YOU CAN’T FUCKING SLEEP.

That’s the thing about coffee, really. At 11PM you’re ready and rearing to do your homework and pumped to do all the things. And at 2AM there you are, lying on your bed thinking about the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

Mostly about school and work, actually.

Mostly work.

Okay, mostly John.

To be fair, it’s about him taking your coffee and actually leaving the café with it, which was a thing that he did today. Not, you know, letting Strider throw it in the trash. You see him basically every day at work though, and he’s less of a target for your righteous fury than Strider so it’s really hard not to think about him.

You tell yourself you don’t like him. You’re never going to like him. John and his stupid friend always fuck up your day somehow and you end up being late for lunch with Sollux almost every time. They’re such a hassle and John might be a new special and personal brand of jerk you’re unaccustomed to, since he’s so bright and cheery but you swear there’s an evil glint in his eyes when he hip-checks Strider or tickles him or shoves the chair slightly over and it pisses you off to no end.

“Fucker.” You mumble into the pillow lamely. “Globesucking fuckwit. Dipshit with the flavor of a putrid tomato. That stupid _walnut_.” Your string of swears makes you feel better, even if it’s only in lieu of some strange vindictive pleasure. You’re too tired for this. “My fury cannot be contained. I shall smite you, rain my wrath down upon you as your god or. Whatever.” You’re so fucking tired.

He really has pretty blue eyes. The prettiest.

You refuse to have a crush on him. He’s an asshole jerk who pranks his friend and makes a mess of your café. Plus he’s probably straight as a ruler.

Maybe it’s one of those really bendy rulers you used to have in ele- Wow you need to sleep more.

You have no reason to have a crush on John.

…

You also have no reason not to have a crush on John. It’s not like you’re ever going to actually have words with him ever.

Your face dully throbs as you slap a heavy hand to your forehead and try your damndest to actually go to sleep.

**> Karkat: Skip the boring shit and go to the movies**

You know, if you were aware that some abstract audience could potentially be watching you and just jump around in your timeline you’d probably be pretty annoyed that they’d just merrily skip ahead when you’re unable to.

But yeah you’re at the movies now. You’ve attached yourself to a group of people that you’re actually astounded to find friends with each other: You expected Feferi, the host of this movie adventure. You expected Aradia, since she’s friends with both Sollux and his girlfriend. You’re surprised to see Kanaya standing in the back. And the others, you have no fucking idea who they are, but a grunge-punk mer, a violet hipstery siren, and an elegant (vaguely off-putting) blonde fishfolk aren’t exactly the people you thought would be here. Then again, you don’t know Feferi’s friends, you barely know her.

“Karkat,” Kanaya says with a smile as you draw near. She has sharp teeth. “I’d like to introduce you to Rose, my girlfriend.”

Well, that’s one down.

The tall, blonde, and black-clad woman looks at you kindly, but not expressively. You have a sudden flashback to Strider and his stupid blank face. Then she smiles and holds out a hand for you to shake. You expected sharp teeth, you’re slightly surprised when she doesn’t have them.

“Charmed,” she says with a voice rich enough to rival Kanaya’s in beauty. You wonder if she sings. “I trust you’re feeling better?”

You assume Kanaya told her about your breakdown and turn a little to give her a vaguely betrayed look. She has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Yeah, now that midterms are finally over.”

Rose nods knowingly. “We had our midterms over at Derse recently.” Derse is the art school around the area; it’s a nice place if not exceptionally purple. Its sport teams always seem to go head to head with Prospit’s. “I don’t think I’ll be looking at charcoal fondly for a good while yet. And we still have another half a semester to go.” She looks grumpy, finally, nose crinkled and lavender gills on her throat fluttering. Kanaya puts a hand down on her head softly.

Feferi bounds over with a bubbly grace that startles you as she bursts out “Okay, Introduction time!”

You learn that her sister’s name is Meenah and has the longest fucking braids in the universe. You also learn that the “fishy fucker” that’s been ruining Sollux’s work experience is named Eridan Ampora, and he shrieks like an eight year old girl as Meenah chases him around the parking lot. You don’t know how to take this information but you end up having to snap at Sollux to not punch Ampora as you make your way towards the theater.

(Meenah decides you’re her best friend and she ends up attaching herself to your side. She calls you “Shouty” and you decide not to argue with the grin made up of sharp, serrated teeth.)

**> Karkat: Watch Pitch Perfect**

The movie’s a fucking masterpiece you can’t enjoy because you’re too busy getting crowded all to hell with Sollux on one side and Meenah on the other. Sollux is trying to avoid Eridan (who got placed next to him somehow, you weren’t paying attention, you were ignoring literally all those asshats and just focusing on the shitty pre-preview previews) and for some reason it’s become a line of dominos with Eridan crashed into him and Sollux about an inch from your shoulder. Meenah, on your left, is basically sprawled into your lap and stealing your candy corn. She didn’t ask.

(Sollux picked you up in his shitty car and drug you to a convenience store for snacks to smuggle in first, of course. You got candy corn; candy corn is great shut up. Candy corn and slushie and cookie dough. Yeah, you’re serious. It’s fucking delicious.)

The entire affair is a fucking trainwreck all around you and half of them aren’t even watching the movie. You might be the only one watching the movie. You hate everything.

**> == >**

You mean to go over and spend the awkward after-movie session with Kanaya and Rose, since Sollux seems a bit preoccupied with his girlfriend. However, the gross amounts of schmoopy kisses and blushy giggles makes you question if that’s a good idea. They’re at least a little bit tipsy and you see why Kanaya doesn’t have her car.

Meenah corners you instead, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Hey. Hey Shouty.” She pokes your cheek and you can smell bubblegum on her lips. “Gonna tell you a secret.”

“Yeah?” You can’t find it in you to be intimidated by a girl who swings her braids around, hip checks people she just met, and attempts to dog pile her sister’s friends just because she can. “Is it about this disaster?”

“Oh shell yeah.” She looks like she’d eat you up. “Fuckin’ yes, all the motherglubbin’ affirmatives. See my lil’ sister’s buoyfriend over there?”

You nod.

“She’s totally setting him up with her childhood best buddy.” Meenah grabs some of your candy corn and pops it in her mouth effortlessly. You’ve given up trying to keep it away from her. “Netting them together, you know. Eri’s had a crush on the computer since before they met. It’s super glubbin’ cute.” She sniggers. “But my sis doesn’t know it’s gonna pop in her face first. She can’t read this sort of thing. Hasn’t had the practice. My gossip frond, Meu, taught me how to know this ship.”

She uses an inordinate amount of fish puns and you’re surprised she hasn’t started calling you Karcrab or Crabkat like Feferi does. You’re about to say something- probably something along the lines of “Meu, as in Meulin, as in Leijon?” When Sollux starts shouting. He seems to be screaming his computerized head off at Eridan.

Meenah cackles and throws her hand into your candy corn with gusto. “The reel show’s startin’, Shouty.”

“My friends are morons,” you conclude. She pinches your cheek.

“Mine too, lil’ guppy. Mine too.”

“Morons and assholes. Except for Kanaya.” You love your friends, really, but they’re pretty stupid sometimes.

“Pretty much all of them are some sort of idiot.” Meenah pauses. “Maybe not Porrim. Or Aranea. The rest of them, though…” She trails off and you know. You know and you roll your eyes furiously and join her in stuffing your face because honestly, watching Sollux blow up is kind of hilarious. He’s gesticulating in a way you normally do, furious emoticons flashing and .GIFs over his face (including pictures of Eridan as a siren with digital graffiti pointing arrows at him labelled “jerk” and “literal penis”). It’s comical in a way you can appreciate. “Hey, lil’ nubs, should add me on Pesterchum or some ship. It’ll be great.”

Sollux storms towards you before you can reply, grabbing your wrist and headed off to the car.

“It’s carcinoGenesist!” You shout, unable to do much else because Sollux’s face is a literal angry stormcloud and you don’t have a death wish. You hope she adds you, but you’re not sure why. You just kind of like having friends.

The car ride home is awkward and silent and you kind of really hate being within arm’s reach of Very Angry Sollux.

> Karkat: Skip Ahead a Few Days

\-- conquerorsCutlass [CC]  started pestering carcinoGenesist [CG]  at 12:37 ! --

CC: hey lil fish  
CC: shouty  
CC: cutie demon pie  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?   
CC: hehehehehe  
CC: sup  
CG: OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY? ALL THAT FOR ONE LITTLE SUP?   
CC: whale its an awesome way to say hello shouty  
CC: i thought you knew this ship by now  
CC: its only the coolest glubbin way to do it too  
CC: ya agree with me right  
CG: SHUT UP I’M LITERALLY DON’T HAVE THE BRAIN POWER FOR THIS.   
CC: RUD—E  
CG: I’M BEING ATTACKED BY THE VIOLET MILES AND I LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON ANYMORE.  
CC: wait what

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you know this for certain. Your chumhandle is carcinoGenesist because it sounded cool.

Her name is Meenah Peixes, and you’ve just recently become her friend. Her chumhandle is conquerorsCutlass.

Your best friend’s name is Kanaya Maryam, and this you know. Her chumhandle is grimAuxiliatrix because she’s got helpfully meddlesome personality and she’s sent you one message that just reads: Sorry

And you don’t know this monster’s name and you don’t want to but their chumhandle is caligulasAquarium and you’re drowning in a slew of text that goes something like this:

CA: kar  
CA: kar you gotta help me  
CA: kar hes mad at me  
CA: i dont knoww wwhat to do im not good at this stuff  
CA: kan said ya know this shit  
CA: i heard ya yell your handle at fefs sis  
CA: i hope i got it right  
CA: oh shit if this is some random moron  
CA: sorry  
CA: im lookin for karkat vvantas  
CG: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?   
CA: shit  
CA: eridan ampora here  
CA: sorry i probably shoulda led with that

You’re fighting this niggling urge to beat your head on the nearest available surface.

CG: WHAT’RE YOU DOING AROUND HERE, FISHFUCK?   
CA: kar im just gonna assume thats how ya talk to people  
CA: its kinda rude really  
CA: im desperate though ya gotta help me  
CA: its about sol

You comply with the niggling urge and drop your head against the desktop multiple times. Your forehead hurts. You just wanted to do your homework, for fuck’s sake.

Oh god he’s still going.

CA: he said i couldnt go to his store anymore  
CA: and i havvent been cuz i get that i fucked up somehoww  
CA: no idea howw though  
CA: an i wwanted to do somefin so hed stop bein so mad at me  
CA: i wwent to kan  
CA: she said i gotta talk to someone wwho knowws their relationship shit  
CA: thats you by the wway  
CG: OKAY BACK UP.   
CG: WHAT AM I DOING?   
CA: youre gonna help me wwith wwinnin sol back or wwhatever  
CG: HOW ABOUT NO?   
CA: please kar im beggin ya  
CA: im on my hands and knees i swear  
CG: WIN CAPTOR BACK?   
CG: YOU’RE NOT EVEN FRIENDS WITH THE GUY! AND I WOULD KNOW. HE TELLS ME ALL ABOUT HOW YOU FUCK EVERYTHING UP FOR HIM EVERY SINGLE DAY.   
CG: AND I ONLY HEAR ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS BEFORE NOON.   
CG: YOU’RE INSANE IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE ANY SORT OF CHANCE WITH SOLLUX.   
CA: but i lovve him kar  
CG: YOU LOVE AN ASSHOLE YOU’VE NEVER ACTUALLY HAD A CONVERSATION WITH.   
CG: NO YOU FUCKING DON’T.   
CA: okay that was a bit of an exaggeration  
CA: probably i just got a crush the size of jupiter on his ass  
CA: and maybe howw he goes about at wwork  
CA: and howw he cant always control wwhat goes on his face  
CA: but thats close enough right  
CA: hes such a cute asshole kar

You beat your head a few more times for good measure. You refuse to play relationship guru between Eridan and Sollux, that’s just stupid. You have your own problems to deal with! You’ve got schoolwork!

CG: I CAN’T HELP YOU, I’M BUSY.   
CA: busy doin wwhat  
CG: CODING.   
CA: ugh kan said youd probably be doin that  
CA: youre always doin homewwork wwhen ya aint at school  
CA: or wworkin  
CA: do you do anyfin else evver  
CG: OF COURSE I DO!   
CA: like wwhat  
CG: I WENT TO THE MOVIES WITH ALL OF YOU.   
CA: that doesnt count you did that like once and kan made a stint about it after so ya dont do it much obvviously

He’ll see! You totally do things other than homework and actual work. Your life is more than just school and coffee. Recently, too! Within like, the last… semester? Right? You went to the movies with them and, uh… you… uh… hm.

Okay, so you really haven’t done much of anything. Like, at all. You can’t even remember the last time you went and hung out with Kanaya or Nep. You haven’t talked to Terezi in months. You barely see Gamzee anymore, since you come home and hole up in your room for hours. You don’t even go out to eat. When was the last time you ate something other than something Gamzee pushed your way that wasn’t shitty college café food, or that rubbish they pass off as food at the food court? You don’t have a girlfriend, you don’t have a boyfriend, you barely have any friends anymore.

When was the last time you talked to Kanaya without bringing up something wrong with your life?

Oh god you’re trash.

CG: OH GOD I’M TRASH  
CC: no sealriously what  
CG: SORRY NEEDED TO SAY THAT TO SOMEBODY.   
CC: shouty can you please tell me what the glubbin fuck is goin on here  
CC: violet miles  
CC: what are the violet miles  
CC: i know the red miles too well  
CC: friend of mine has issues  
CC: violet is new  
CG: IT’S ERIDAN.   
CC: oh  
CC: have fun 38D  
CG: FUCK I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO KANAYA.   
CC: 38?   
CG: IGNORE ME, I’M BEING REALLY STUPID RIGHT NOW.   
CG: I’D SLAP TWO-MINUTES-AGO ME IF I COULD.   
CC: pfft okay whatever you say nubs  
CC: go do your thing imma chill here

CG: I’M SO SORRY.   
GA: I Cant Quite Fathom What It Is That Youre Sorry For Karkat  
GA: From What I Can Glean I Should Be Sorry Here  
GA: Considering What I Assume Youre Getting From A Certain Mister Ampora Right Around Now  
GA: Again I Will Say  
GA: Sorry  
CG: I’VE BEEN A PRETTY SHITTY FRIEND THESE PAST FEW MONTHS.   
CG: PRETTY WRAPPED UP IN MY OWN PROBLEMS.   
CG: I’M SORRY I HAVEN’T BEEN AROUND FOR YOU.   
CG: FOR ANYONE, ACTUALLY.   
GA: Its Quite Alright Honestly  
GA: I Promise Nothing Disastrous Went Down That Weve Been Hiding From You To Keep More Stress Off Your Shoulders  
CG: KANAYA IT’S OVER HALFWAY THROUGH SEMESTER AND I ONLY MET YOUR GIRLFRIEND FOR THE FIRST TIME LAST WEEK.   
CG: YOU’VE BEEN DATING SINCE THE BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF SUMMER.   
CG: I’VE BEEN TOO WRAPPED UP WITH MY OWN STUPID SELF TO EVEN FATHOM MEETING HER.   
GA: Karkat I Promise You Its Okay  
GA: What Even Brought This On Though  
GA: Did Eridan Say Anything To Cause This Do I Have To Punch Him In The Face Because I Will Hes My Friend But Also A Massive Asshole Idiot  
CG: OH FUCK. 

He hasn’t gone away.

CA: you still there  
CA: dont leave kar please i didnt mean it  
CA: kar  
CA: kar come back  
CG: STOP CALLING ME THAT YOU DERANGED DICK-SPITTING MORON.   
CA: no wway its howw I show affection  
CG: OH MY GOD WHY.   
CG: LOOK.   
CG: I CAN HELP YOU TRY TO AT LEAST GET SOLLUX TALK TO YOU.   
CG: AND GIVE YOU POINTERS ON HOW TO WIN HIS SORRY ASS AFTER THAT IF YOU PASS STEP MOTHERFUCKING ONE.   
CG: BUT THAT’S IT, GOT IT?   
CA: oh god thanks kar youre a savior you dont knoww howw much i appreciate it  
CA: wwhat do i gotta do  
CG: HAVE YOU APOLOGIZED YET? 

You end up taking a break from your homework to furiously type instructions in what you come to call Asshole Express: The One Way Fucktrain To Romance. And Eventual Boning, which was added after Eridan continued to be a ridiculous globsucking waste of space all over the goddamn place. You get him to leave eventually, hours and hours later, when your stomach snarls something ugly and you realize you haven’t moved to eat or drink or piss for about five or six hours.

Pushing back from your desk with a grunt, you make your way out of your room towards the kitchen. Your shuffling gait is purposeful- all the lights are off and you can hear Gamzee snoring, so you’re going to keep them off, and he is not a neat roommate. In fact, he is the opposite of a neat roommate. There are random stupid clown horns strewn all over the ground and the first night you snuck out of your room to raid the fridge at 2AM for all of its leftovers (leftovers are the greatest thing in the universe) you stepped on one and nearly pissed and/or shit yourself in terror. You ended up on your ass. And you saw Gamzee come out, with a dopy smile that looked practiced; it was all jagged teeth and leer. He’d leaned over you and you could smell the sea on his breath when he asked if you were “all motherfuckin’ right up in the head down there, best friend, we wouldn’t want any scary shit happenin’ to ya, now would we?”

Since then you’ve stuck to the stingray shuffle. It’s for the best.

Oh hell yes you have pizza. And Jane’s leftover baking. Hell yes. You’re gonna eat until you make yourself sick. It’s going to be awesome.

You sit there for at least half an hour, possibly an hour, stuffing your face with shitty pizza and cinnamon rolls and oh god there’s lasagna when did that happen oh well you’re gonna eat it. It’s way too much food and you feel vaguely like you’re going to pop but what the fuck ever. You feel alive! Alive and free!

You spend the next hour fighting a terribad stomachache, continually getting up to crouch next to the toilet groaning and whining as quietly as possible, but it’s still totally worth it.

**> == >**

You’re taking a day off.

It’s so nice and relaxing to forcibly not think about school for once. Wow. Look at how pretty the world is. The tiles have a new sheen to them today. The walls are such a lovely beige. The coffee machine’s annoying as fuck noises of boiling water are slightly less annoying.

Okay, you’re not taking a literal day off, you’re actually still at work, but at least you’re going to go out and do something nice with your evening. You’ll play a game or something. Take a bubble bath. Maybe you’ll go shopping or something, even!

Nepeta leans on you with a grin, arched up on her hind legs so her entire back is pressed against you. “How’s it going, Karkitty?” The café is mostly empty, so she gets the chance to chat. It’s almost the end of your shift. Oh good. Oh thank fuck. Holy shit there might be a god.

“Could be worse,” you hazard. She beams at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the universe.

“You’re better today!” She says with a slight pap to your hair with one dainty paw. “I was getting worried, you know.”

She shouldn’t be getting worried. Nobody should be worried. God, you’re terrible. You didn’t even notice your childhood friend getting worried about you. Fuck. Maybe you should shove your head in the coffee maker, that’d make it impossible for you to cause anybody else any more trouble. Except for the person who would have to clean up your carcass. Damn, can’t do that.

It must be karma that spills cream down your front right before your shift ends, leaving you soaked and sticky and stinking of milk.

**> Time: Pass**

That it does. Continually. It’s like several weeks later already, holy shit!

You’re still Karkat by the way and wow is it great to just pamper yourself like once a week. And focus on other things again, like… Well, your friends. Like your regulars at the café. Like new movies (you’re so hyped for some of these new flicks jesus). Like getting your ass handed to you at Mario Kart when you’re up against Gamzee (how the fuck is he so good at that game you really don’t get it). And like orchestrating your friends’ love lives.

How did you get the job of orchestrating Eridan’s trainwreck of a romance anyway?

CG: YOU IDIOT HE DOESN’T HAVE A **MOUTH** HOW THE SHIT IS HE GOING TO EAT ANYTHING DON’T TAKE HIM OUT TO ****DINNER****!  
CA: oh shit i forgot

Holy shitballs how can he be this dense. Sollux has a computer for a head. A motherfucking laptop. Laptops don’t have mouths. There is a reason Sollux basically looks like a twig put on jeans and a tee-shirt and went on with life.

CG: TAKE HIM OUT SOMEWHERE, SHITLICK, AND INVOLVE NO FOOD. I WOULD SAY INVOLVE NEGATIVE FOOD BUT THAT SEEMS DISGUSTING AND PUTRID.  
CA: wwhat should i do with him kar  
CA: i dont know shit about his hobbies yet  
CA: wwhat wwould be a good date for him  
CG: THAT BULGEBITING NOOKCHAFING DICKSTAIN HAS NO HOBBIES OUTSIDE OF GAMING AND FUCKING AS FAR AS ANYBODY KNOWS.   
CG: EXCEPT FOR MAYBE FEFERI OR ARADIA BUT I DON’T THINK SHE’S UP FOR GIVING ADVICE TO YOU HERE.   
CA: no she just keeps goin all  
CA: “---Eridan!! Im not going to give you all the details on Sollux )(ere, its just not rig)(t! 38X”   
CA: “Find out yourself! 38D”   
CA: every time i ask  
CG: JUST TAKE HIM TO DO SOMETHING YOU LIKE TO DO. 

**> == >**

CA: i took him to the aquarium and im gonna murder my brother  
CA: he made me leave right before some choice fuckin there  
CA: something about how pors gonna chop his dick of and feed it to him  
CA: i had to save his ass and i was cheated  
CA: cheated kar  
CA: he probably had such a suckable dick  
CG: DID I HAVE TO KNOW THAT? 

**> == >**

\-- grimAuxillatrix [GA]  started pestering carcinoGenesist [CG]  at 21:40 ! --

GA: Karkat As You Must Know Thanksgiving Is Around The Corner Or At Least What Was Called Thanksgiving Several Years Ago According To Eridan And I Will Trust Him In This Matter Considering His Love For History  
GA: Or At Least Im Assuming You Know Because Shortly After This Affair Comes The Day Anybody Working In Retail Dreads And Since You Work At Skaia I Figure Youll Have Your Hands Full With That  
GA: Most Places Require Everybody To Work If Im Not Mistaken  
GA: But Anyway As I Was Saying  
GA: That Day In Which Everybody Stuffs Themselves Full Of Turkey And Other Such Foods Like Ham And Cranberries And Seasoned Baked Croutons Is Swiftly Coming Upon Us And I Was Wondering If You Would Like To Join Rose And I For Dinner In Honor Of That Evening  
GA: Were Having A Small Sort Of Dinner Party The Saturday After Turkey Day Because We Thought It Would Be Nice To Invite People This Year And The Actual Day Itself Didnt Work Out And Friday Is Terrible Because Its Black Friday  
GA: So Please Come  
GA: If You Would  
GA: It Would Be Nice  
GA: And Get You Out Of The House And Into Some Proper Company For Awhile

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  is an idle chum! --

GA: Karkat Dont Ignore Me I Know You Dont Leave Your Pesterchum On When Youre Not At The Computer  
GA: Get Back Here This Instant

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG] is no longer an idle chum! --

CG: SHIT SORRY FORGOT TO TURN OFF MY COMPUTER.   
CG: I, UH, GOT DISTRACTED DOING SOMETHING.   
GA: Something  
GA: What Is Something  
CG: IT’S NOT THAT IMPORTANT.   
GA: Karkat  
GA: …  
GA: My Finish Crumbs Illustrate My Disapproving Stare Just Letting You Know  
CG: IT’S REALLY NOT THAT IMPORTANT. I WAS TAKING A BATH.   
GA: A Bath  
CG: YES. A FUCKING BATH. WHAT? ARE YOU GOING TO THROW YOUR FINISH CRUMBS AT ME BECAUSE I TOOK A GODDAMN BATH? OH DEAR LORD FORBID THAT I, KARKAT VANTAS, BE CLEAN AT LEAST ONE DAY OUT OF THE WEEK! OH HEAVENS NO!   
GA: Oh No I Was Just Surprised Because  
GA: Well I Mean  
GA: You Dont Take Baths  
CG: WELL I DECIDED TO TRY SOMETHING NEW SO SUE ME.   
GA: Did It Have Bubbles  
CG: OF COURSE IT FUCKING HAD BUBBLES WHAT SORT OF HEATHEN WOULD TAK A BATH WITHOUT BUBBLES?   
GA: You Would Be Surprised At How Many Refuse Bubbles In Their Baths  
GA: Ive Heard Some People Will Bathe Themselves In Glitter For The Sake of Vanity  
CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYBODY TAKE A BATH IN **GLITTER**?  
CG: ARE THEY INSANE? YOU’D TWINKLE FOR THE NEXT FIVE YEARS AT LEAST, HOLY FESTERING BULGELICKING DICKS, EVEN FAIRIES DON’T GET THAT SPARKLY.   
GA: Im Not Sure Why People Do It But The Fact Is That I Have Seen The Materials  
GA: I Wouldnt Ever Try It I Would Get Glitter In My Fur And My Rainbow Drinker Status Already Has Enough Sparkle Connotation Without My Help  
GA: But Karkat Were Distracted Here This Isnt What I Started Pestering You About At All  
GA: Please Answer The Question Before We Get Sidetracked By Something Else Completely Unrelated  
CG: WAIT WHAT QUESTION I DIDN’T GET THE CHANCE TO READ THAT BEFORE WE GOT DISTRACTED BY ABOLUTION TALK.   
GA: Will You Come To Roses And I’s Place For Dinner The Saturday After Turkey Day With A Group Of Friends.   
CG: WHO ELSE IS GOING?   
GA: Just Some Of Roses Friends And I Believe One Of Them Is Bringing His Other Girlfriend  
GA: He Has Two  
CG: DO I KNOW ANY OF THESE OTHER FRIENDS OF ROSE’S?   
GA: Not Particularly Really  
CG: I’LL COME IF I CAN BRING SOLLUX  
GA: Oh Dear Do You Really Have To  
CG: KANAYA, THE LAST TIME I WENT SOMEWHERE WITH A GROUP OF FRIENDS THERE WAS A HUGE SHITSTORM TO RIVAL ALL SHITSTORMS AND YOU WERE THERE SLIGHTLY OFF THE CENTER WITH YOUR FACE GLUED TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S.   
CG: I’M SURE IT WAS A GLORIOUS EXPERIENCE BUT IF THERE ARE PEOPLE AND THEIR PLUS ONES I’M BRINGING SOMEBODY TO FALL BACK ON IN CASE I CAN’T STAND THE SHIT SPEWING FROM THEIR FACE GASHES AND NEED SOMEBODY TO FALL BACK ON.   
GA: I Think Only He Is The Only One Bringing A Plus One Though  
GA: Please Leave Sollux At Home  
GA: He Doesnt Have A Mouth Karkat How Is He Going To Enjoy The Evening  
CG: HE CAN SOCIALIZE  
GA: Sollux  
GA: Socialize  
GA: Somehow I Doubt This Will Be A Thing That Happens  
CG: WELL THEN HE CAN SOCIALIZE WITH ME WHILE EVERYBODY ELSE IGNORES ME.   
CG: I HAVE A TRACK RECORD AT THESE THINGS, IF YOU REMEMBER. EITHER I CUSS EVERYBODY OUT ON ACCIDENT BECAUSE SOMEBODY SAID SOMETHING STUPID OR EVERYBODY IGNORES ME.   
GA: Yes I Do Remember  
GA: That Dinner With Your Family Was Certainly An Eventful One  
GA: What With Your Outbursts And Kankris Lecture And Porrim Kicking Him Under The Table As Our Parents Tried Their Very Hardest Not To Beat Us All Up  
CG: SEE, I NEED A BUFFER. I’M BRINGING SOLLUX.   
GA: Sigh  
GA: If You Absolutely Must

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering twinArmageddons [TA]  at 22:51 ! --

CG: HEY YOU’RE DOING SOMETHING THIS WEEKEND.   
TA: waiit what no ii’m not  
CG: WHY, DO YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE PLANS THIS SATURDAY? 

You proceed to have a conversation that looks [rather familiar], so you’re not going to share.

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA]  started pestering carcinoGenesist [CG]  at 23:14 ! --  
CA: kar i got fucked in the dressing room and it was great  
CG: DID I HAVE TO FUCKING KNOW THAT?!

** > Karkat: Hate monsterkind as a whole**

Not a fucking problem. That is the exact opposite of a problem. That is something you can do and you can do it so motherfucking easily, holy cumguzzling shit, Jesus himself could come down from heaven and tell you to love humanity or suffer eternal ball-crushing hell and nope, no way, you’re going to hell in a beautiful pink fucking handbasket because wow, jesus wow, people are stupid.

If it’s not clear, you’re working Black Friday. It’s you and the Leijons against the onslaught of people coming in for a pit-stop during their terrifying stampede for sales. Sales, mind you, that were exactly the same yesterday.

There is absolutely nothing scarier than a skinny white middle-aged woman screaming at you because you don’t have her coffee fast enough.

You’re allowed to snap back right now, though. The benefit of Black Fridays. Meulin gave you permission after last year, when a bitch with her mouth at the back of her head tried to strangle you with her hair because you weren’t fast enough with her coffee. There was a huge stink about it, went through court and was a big mess, finally it was ruled illegal to ban youkai from establishments during times of high stress, but you’re still wary.

“Ma’am, please step away from the counter.” You smile at her, all fangs. “I’m making your coffee as fast as I can. However I am but one demon and you’re not first. So please sit back down and wait until I call your name.”

She makes a noise like a tire deflating and you get to revel in the victory for maybe two seconds before she starts threatening you. Like, full out threatening, puffing up her chest and flaring out her feathers in birdly rage. She’s a harpy, a literal one. They’re notoriously Unstable, not as bad as say, kelpies, or even some spider people, but fairly unstable none the less. 

You really should learn not to antagonize Unstables. It’s a bad habit.

You’re already halfway towards calling Nepeta, eyes locked on the harpy as you put whipped cream on a frappe like a goddamn champ, when a sudden and recognizable hand claps onto her shoulder.

“Lady, please, calm your fuckin’ tits.” Strider says. He has to lean down to get into her face, but he does it without hesitation. His wings even loom over her. John shows up beside him, beaming at you for a second before turning eyes towards the madwoman with literal talons. (You shout out the name on the cup without taking your eyes off the scene. That’s how good you are.)

“Yeah, you’re really kind of a bitch!” John says in a tone as bright as always. You fail to continue looking away. You almost gape at the scene actually. He’s smiling, but there’s something threatening in the way the opaque blue under his watery skin keeps moving around. You swear you see a flash of ribs, a moment of organs, the farthest back teeth in his jaw. You’re kind of mesmerized. (You keep making coffee through the ordeal, of course. You don’t actually have a death wish.)

The harpy’s blustering and fluffed up, more frazzled than anything now. It’s like she’s been called a bitch for the first time in months and doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s hilarious.

“DAVID!” Nepeta yowls out, putting a steaming thing of tea on the counter past you. It smells of peppermint.

That snaps harpybitch out of it. She rounds on John, arm raised, hand curled into claws. “Excuse me?!”

He actually _laughs_ , a hard snort through his nose as he steps closer. She falters under his smile. And then he pulls a quarter from behind her ear. “You should really lighten up, geez!” And then, right before your eyes, his face actually visibly darkens. Literally- the watery slime that makes up his face goes from a nice bright aqua green to this dark seaweed color. You can see his skull through it, stark white and menacing. This threaten-flush creeps down his neck, so far you can just barely see his clavicles. “You should probably leave, too.”

And then.

He fucking.

Smiles.

It’s a bright smile, almost the same one he always gives you. It’s a little different when you can see his bones underneath it.

She absconds right as you put down a cup and bark out “Patricia!” She looks back as though tempted to get it, with genuine fear in her eyes. John’s laughing, skin back to normal, slapping Strider’s shoulder whole-heartedly. Your mouth might be a little bit open. She doesn’t come to get her coffee.

“Bye-bye Karkat!” John says with a grin that looks purposefully lopsided, waving excitedly. You belatedly wave back, hands full of coffee.

Then you return to your job maybe working double time because you didn’t actually slow down to watch that disaster in a making. You even managed to triple up orders (“Remus, Warren, Rebecca!”) at once point. You are the coffee master, it is you, you will serve up all these bitches and leave them all in awe of your superior coffee skills and- Hey they didn’t order anything.

That honestly shouldn’t screech your brain to a halt the way that it does. You can practically hear the wheels scrape and scratch against the inside of your skull as the train of thought you were riding practically does a triple backflip straight off the rails. The train is dead, crashed and burned. RIP all the tiny passengers on that particular Train of Thought; may their souls rest forever in whatever afterlife the tiny people in your brain believe in. You’re agnostic.

Jesus dicks stop thinking about that stupid threaten-y slimeboy and get back to work it’s Black Motherfucking Friday and you have two more hours of this shit to go. Two more hours until sweet sweet freedom and you can hate everybody in fucking peace.

Two more hours.

Two more short little hours.

Just two hours of mindlessly grinding coffee and spraying whipped cream.

You’re totally going to take an hour long bath after this.

**> Be Karkat Two Hours Later**

Oh god you hate literally everybody there is no god there is no hope for monsterkind why do you have to live in a city with so many goddamn hills your feet are killing you and there is not enough broadway musical songs in the world to soothe your godly demon rage.

At least you look angry enough to get you a two-foot radius or so on the bus.

**> Time: Pass some more**

Oh hey look at that it’s conveniently the next day.

The clothes for the evening are simple and nice; black slacks and a dark button up. It had red stitching and shiny grey buttons, custom-made as a gift by Kanaya herself. She said it was just practice and since it turned out well that you should have it. You know better; it was totally made for you and it makes her so happy when you wear it. Especially when you favor it over than your customary black turtleneck with cancer symbol, something you’ve had since you were thirteen. You look good in it still, shut up.

“KK, are you ready _yet_?” Sollux lisps tiredly as you nervously check your appearance for the fifth time. Gamzee assured you that you look “motherfucking fine, brother” and Sollux just kind of groaned at you whenever you asked but you distinctly trust their opinions never when it comes to clothes. You’re a little scared to have dinner with Kanaya’s girlfriend. She looked like she could read your mind or some shit.

Also there’s people you don’t know there and for some strange twisted reason that always makes you hyperaware of your appearance. Call it a paranoia thing, but you have to look good for people you don’t know. You’re aware you don’t owe them shit and it makes no sense but there’s no stopping that little train.

You straighten your shirt and pat at your hair. “Yeah, I’m fucking coming, hold your goddamn horses! Do I have to ask Nepeta to get your roomate in on this so you can have a literal horse to practice on or are we good?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s really fucking racist, KK, what would your brother say?” He says as you shut your bedroom door and head into the kitchen. “And where the fuck are you going?”

“I’m bringing a pie!”

“Not one of Gamzee’s, I hope.”

“You know not everything he makes has drugs in it, right?” You’d made a pie with him a couple days ago for this occasion. He’s really a good baker if you trust him. You just made sure that he didn’t sneak anything into it to make your evening more _miraculous_. You’ll just not tell them who helped you make it. “And please never ever mention Kankri again. Ever. You’ll summon him.” He would have a point though. You’re basically a walking hashtag, all unintentionally, and you’re doing your best to be aware but he just takes it to the next level. How the fuck does he even have a boyfriend; you’re certain Cronus has several appropriation issues or something.

“Just mark which one’s yours so I don’t eat it.”

You pass by him with your middle finger pressed firmly against his face. “You don’t even eat, nooksucker, what the fuck are you making a fuss for?”

“Well at least then I can warn the others about this horror you’re trying to bring into their dining room.”

**> == >**

“You know I can’t just steal pastries from the café, that’s embezzlement.” You snap as you raise a hand to knock at Kanaya’s door. Somehow, you two had managed to keep up a full on tirade back and forth regarding baking for the entire drive over to her place above her older sister’s tattoo parlor. You really don’t know how. You two are just really fucking awesomely stupid that way.

The door opens before you can even touch it.

“Did I hear something about _embezzlement?_ ” Says a girl you really hadn’t expected to see tonight. With a grin that stretches from ear to ear, the dragoness Terezi Pyrope grabs your hand and hauls you inside with uncomfortable familiarity. You might be having a heart attack. “That’s _illegal_ , Karkles!”

“Captor’s idea, not mine!” You somehow manage to choke out through your shock. Luckily, she drops you to chastise your asshole friend, so you get a chance to breathe.

Holy shit.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Jesus fucksucking dickbanging nooklicking cuntstuffing phallic shaped shit.

Terezi Pyrope.

You’re having war flashbacks as she hisses and grins at Sollux, her scarlet tail thrashing excitedly behind her. War flashbacks and sudden uncomfortable feelings you’re not quite certain how to deal with. You haven’t seen her in person for more than a furtive glance since high school ended. And here she is, standing proudly in Kanaya’s foyer as though she owns the place.

She’s as beautiful and heartbreaking as you remember.

You don’t get the chance to dwell on her for long, though. Mostly because you decide to preemptively stomp down the hall with your fucking awesome apple-raisin pie into the kitchen before something happens to it. You’re no stranger to shenanigans. Shenanigans and you are practically kissing at this point, shoving your goddamn tongues halfway down each other’s throats.

“Karkat, incoming!” Terezi calls from behind you and you can hear the swoop of wings as they approach. You duck and she launches over your head, a maneuver painfully familiar. Kanaya’s rooms are all wide enough for winged creatures to stretch their sixth limbs enough for at least a short glide. “Hey, guess who’s finally here! Lazybones,” She directs the last word at you as she hits the ground and takes a few steps backwards. Her garish red glasses are crooked on her nose, teal eyes staring vacantly at you.

“Oooh, I guess Karkat!” Says a voice you’re not familiar with. It’s a girl, and it’s bubbly as all fuck, and you have maybe two point one seconds to blink and fail to brace yourself before you’re suddenly in the air. Your feet are no longer on the ground because you have a werewolf currently exposing you to the most bonecrushing hug you think you’ve ever gotten in your life. She’s carrying you with such simple ease too, spinning you around as though she’s known you for longer than thirty seconds. “Hi Karkat! I’m Jade! I’ve heard so much about you!!”

You’re betting she ends her sentences with double shout poles.

You mean to say something like “Uh, hi.”

What comes out is something more like “HOLY NOOKFONDLING FUCKBALLS, PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN THIS INSTANT WHAT THE SHIT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You can hear Sollux slapping a hand to his screen in the background. The girls, however, just laugh. You note that she doesn’t put you down. No, instead she _carries you towards the living room_. You’re still holding a pie.

“Guys, Karkat’s here!”

“Wow, no shit Harley, totally didn’t see that one coming.” Drawls a voice from the living room. A familiar voice. A voice belonging to a certain asshat with shades and really dumb wings. “You two left it a huge mystery. Who’s at the door, I’ve been wondering this entire time. It’s got me wrought with worry, it does. There was absolutely no way I was going to guess who was at the door. Put him down.”

Jade actually pouts as she lets you down. Oh god the floor. You’re so glad to be reacquainted with the floor. You’d get down and kiss it except you’re a little too busy staring in disbelief as Dave Strider, douchefuck extraordinaire, sprawled all over the couch with his wings all several degrees of askew. He’s dressed nicer than you’ve ever seen him, but then again you’ve only ever seen him taking stupid pictures of your coffee.

“Sup, Karkles?”

You blink. You blink again. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Wow, rude much?” Dave says, sitting upright as Jade vaults over the back of the couch and crashes into his lap like an oversized puppy. She’s a werewolf. A werewolf with a huge black and white tail and white paws and white ears and black hair that falls in cascades. A werewolf that’s wagging its tail furiously as she presses her face into Dave’s with a whine.

“Don’t be a dickbag, Dave!” She says petulantly. “He’s just confused, right?”

Confused is an understatement. Confused is such an understatement in this entire ordeal that it has gone in hiding, deep underground on a motherfucking journey to the center of the universe. Confused is like the fluffy feathery down of the beast that you’re riding and that beast is more like a raging “WHAT THE FUCK.”

“I, uh, didn’t realize you knew Kanaya,” you say instead awkwardly as you backtrack towards the kitchen.

“Dude, she’s dating my sister.”

Aaaaaaaaaand you nearly drop the pie. “Wait what?”

“Yeah, Rose? My little baby sister. Isn’t that right, Rosey?” He asks cheekily as the very same woman walks in from the bedroom, smoothing down her impeccable black velvet dress. It has a violet trim.

“Oh brother of mine,” She sighs as she drapes over the back of the couch so that her boobs are right on top of his head. “Oh sweet sweet brother of mine.” She pats his face and you’re really lost at this point. You finally put the goddamn pie down though, on the island between kitchen and living room. “I’m about nine hours older than you, darling baby brother, and you’ll remember it if you don’t want me to show Karkat and Terezi all those pictures you took when you were thirteen.”

“Aww shit big sis you don’t have to be so mean about it.” He drawls and you’re not quite certain how they’re related, Dave sounds like Texas and Rose sounds like New York but they certainly have similar face shapes now that you’re looking at them properly, same blond hair too. “You know I was jus’ kiddin’ around, right?”

“Dave, you’re a dork,” says another exceptionally familiar voice to your left, coming out of the kitchen. You turn right as bright blue eyes get uncomfortably close to your face and you can feel the breath he exhales as John goes “Hi Karkat!” right in your face.

He smells vaguely like blueberries, which strikes you as a very Terezi-like thing to think.

“What the fuck,” you say in candid response. By now you can just hear Sollux behind you sniggering to himself, the bastard. “You’re here too?”

“Hey, don’t be dissin’ my best bro over there.”

“Strider, shut up, I’m trying real hard here to understand what the blustering fuck’s going on at this exact moment and you’re not helping.”

“Karkat, you’re a real grump sometimes.”

“Terezi, you’re not helping either.”

Everybody laughs at your misery. You take a quick check. Okay, so. Kanaya’s dating Rose, check. Rose is related to Dave, what the fuck, check. Dave’s dating Jade, so it seems from the way she snuggles up to one of his sides. Judging by how Terezi plops her ass almost onto his lap, Dave’s also dating Terezi, what the shit. John is here because reasons, fuck if you know, check. You feel rather lost and like you want to retreat to talking with your buffer now, please and thank you.

John follows you.

“Wow, I guess this is the first time I’ve seen you outside the café!” He says brightly. He’s rubbing absently at his face, just barely distorting the features and you’re determined not to find it fascinating. “You look really weird without your apron! I just could never imagine you without it but there you are!”

“Yes Egbert, here I am.”

“Whoa, how’d you know my last name?!” He gasps wildly, and holy shit he actually manages to twist his mouth into a question mark. You know Terezi would kill for that ability.

“That’s all Strider ever calls you, shitlick.” You grumble as you attempt to go stand next to your best friend.

Your best friend who’s currently engaged in conversation with said Strider, holy shit you hate everything why are you even here why didn’t you just stay at home, sorry Kanaya, can’t come hang, have to code or some shit. Have movies to watch, baths to take. No way can you come and meet all her friends _that you happen to know like almost all of them jesus dicks why is the only new face you see Jade’s._

“Oh, ha, of course.” He rolls his eyes and stands on your side to stare at his best friend. At least, you’re assuming Dave’s his best friend. You do always see them together. “Yeah, Dave’s dumb that way. I bet he’d call you by your last name if he knew it!”

You’d bet your teeth he’d still call you Karkles, if only because stupid nicknames are your curse. You know where he got it too; Terezi always called you that when she was being silly.

“Anyway, it’s like… super cool to see you out of the café! Like, it’s crazy but I kind of thought you like lived in the café or something. Which is really dumb because you just work there! But like, just imagine yourself as… as a troll or something, all grey and tiny- well, tinier and greyer- and like hiding in the cupboards behind the counter when the store closes! It’s pretty funny, isn’t it?”

Would Sollux be terribly against _killing_ you right now?

“Shut your flapping trap, Egbert, you’re embarrassing me. You’re embarrassing me _for you_ , that’s how bad it is right now. Trolls aren’t even real,” You snap, eyes narrowed.

“Oh. Sorry.” He looks sheepish, nervously grabbing fistfuls of his liquid-solid hair and ugh, ugh, kill you, no, why is he using puppy eyes on you is that shit even conscious no abort it is not cute you swear it’s not fucking cute he’s an annoying little thing that won’t leave you the fuck alone holy jesus dicks can he not with the puppy eyes and oh fuck he’s chewing on his bottom lip you refuse to give in. “I just, uh, haven’t seen you outside of work before and it’s super exciting that our friends know each other! I mean, it’s a crazy coincidence, isn’t it?”

You don’t believe in coincidences. You’re certain there’s somebody to blame.

“It’s not that exciting,” you grumble. It really isn’t. Mortifying, maybe. This is the same slimeboy that’s seen you with coffee down your shirt, whipped cream in your _hair_ (Nepeta teamed up with him for a prank once, you hate them both), and once, walking into an open door. You don’t even know how that happened. You were a bit distracted with school at that time and barely functioning. Wow, past you was really stupid.

“But, like, I’ve seen you for days! Weeks! And we’ve never talked. I know your name and that’s about it.” He frowns at you. “Also you’re a demon, that too, but that doesn’t count. Anybody can tell that! Well, once they stop like, flipping their shit ‘cause you look pretty human still, and that’s kind of weird.”

John Egbert: Master of tact. You almost start yelling because the demon subject is kind of a touchy one, considering your family history and all affairs having to do with that and wow people just shouldn’t mention your demon-ness being weird ever, except SUDDENLY JADE.

She actually hip-checks John to the side, sending him sprawling to the ground (his body actually displaces a bit and it’s kind of disturbingly fascinating and you want to know more about slime biology all of a sudden because how has his internal organs not gone everywhere) as she gets close enough for you to flinch back, totally expecting another rendition of Karkat’s ribs going GHKPTH under her arms, but she doesn’t go for your waist. Instead she grabs your hand excitedly and swings it around her shoulders. “Hi again!”

“… What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk, duh! Or, like, we could play Mario Kart. I think we have Mario Kart. Dave, did we bring Mario Kart?”

“Nah, left that at home. Rose made us.”

“Oh yeah.” She looks up at you apologetically. “So, no Mario Kart. Guess you have to talk to me!” She’s got the same buckteeth as John. You wonder if they’re related.

And then you ask, “Are you and Egbert related?”

She laughs, waving a wayward hand at the slimeboy still on his ass on the ground. “Oh, John’s my cousin! On his father’s side via John’s grandmother or something, we don’t really know the details because our family history gets a bit weird if you think about it but yeah. Cousins. We look really alike though, or at least we did when we were still like. Tiny and squishy.”

“Egbert’s still squishy though.”

She snickers at that, rocking back and forth. You kind of want to pet her hair for some reason, probably because she reminds you of a dog but that’s probably some kind of insensitive too. That just wouldn’t do for Sollux to chew you out in place of your brother, made even worse because you know he’s just doing it because he’s a jerk.

“You guys are mean!” He shoots back, giving you both a single-finger salute. Jade giggles even more furiously. “Not fair, Jade! Bad wolfie, worst cousin.”

“Great wolfie, bestest cousin!”

He glowers up at her bright face, not pulling the weird translucent flush thing he did at work the day before. Oh, speaking of.

“John.”

His head snaps around to yours and _why is he looking at you like that_?? He’s got this stupid bashful bright expression on and it’s just really. Really weird. “Um. Thanks for saving my ass yesterday. With the harpy.”

Wet slime, meet Karkat’s shin. You shiver a bit as he kicks you lightly, still sitting on the ground. “No problem! She was being a super mega bitch and believe me, I know some ultra bitches, but she was like. The bitchiest bitch of them all. It was just a coffee, right? Some stupid… Uh… I dunno, cat-pun-something-chino?”

“Decaf soy latte with whipped cream.” Your mouth says on autopilot. “No cat puns.”

He’s gaping at you. Oops. “How do you even remember that? I can’t remember what I had for breakfast!”

“I don’t fucking know. I remember things in great detail about people who piss me off.” You gesture emphatically towards Sollux. He’s sitting on the coffee table, facing the couch that Dave’s got his ass sprawled on. Surprisingly, Sollux hasn’t been beat up by a certain moth who has A Thing about people sitting on furniture not made for sitting on. “He’s heard so many tales about your douchefuck of a bro over there!”

“Hey hey, be nice!” Jade actually paps you on the fucking nose. “That’s my douchefuck of a boyfriend over there!”

“You wound me, Harley.”

“She has all the reason to, Mister Appleberry!” You watch bemusedly as Terezi flicks Dave on the nose with one wayward finger, almost sticking it up his nose. She’s sprawled on his lap with her face towards you, one wing mashed up against his chest and the other on the floor by Sollux’s feet. “You’ve quite the reputation, it seems. Objection overruled!” She adds as he opens his mouth, flapping a hand at his face again. “Now, Mister Honey Mustard, please continue! What else have you heard about Shades McDouchefuck? Touching nickname, Karkles,” she adds.

“We weren’t even talking about that,” Sollux attempts to protest and fails, roped into telling secondhand stories. A sharp, quick spit of laughter erupts at your feet.

You look down.

John’s got a hand clapped over his mouth to muffle laughter that bubbles through him anyway- literally, too, literal bubbles of laughter pop from his shoulders and that’s actually kind of creepy.

“John, you’re doing the thing again.” Rose says from where she’s sitting primly in an armchair, legs crossed. She’s kitting. Why is she knitting? “The thing that most people aren’t used to.”

“Oh, heh, sorry!” He says as he rubs his shoulders. The bubbles settle down and smooth out until his body looks a bit normal again. “Sorry.” And he’s looking up at you now and you’re a bit confused but you nod anyway. Weird bodily things, you’re used to it, everybody’s a monster around here.

Beside you, Jade’s ears perk up to attention. Case in point. “Sorry, be back, gotta check on dinner!” She says as she bounds to the kitchen with her nose in the air. You can smell dinner too, it’s been a scent hanging over your head since you opened the door, but you guess it’s stronger for her. “It’s almost done!!”

“We’re having turkey,” John says as if you couldn’t tell. He finally stands up again and leans on the wall next to you. He’s close, really weirdly close, and as if he notices that he moves over a bit. “And all that stuff that Kanaya made earlier. She just left the turkey to Jade.”

“Where is she, anyway?” You ask, looking around. It’s not like her to be absent with guests over. She’s got like this instinctive meddlesome personality that makes her obnoxiously fussy. You like it, because it kind of keeps you from always bawling at work.

Rose crosses and recrosses her ankles, pointedly catching your attention as she gestures at you with one foot. “She was setting the table when you came in, and went back to get properly dressed afterwards. She thought she should be presentable for the better part of the evening. I’m not sure why she’s taking so long, really.”

“That would be because a certain florally-named sea creature took it upon herself to hide the dress I was to wear this evening,” says a voice carried in from the bedroom. She sounds vaguely irate, you note, and you should probably go give her a hand except Rose is already standing up with the worst grin on her face.

“I think I’ll go help her. To the dinner table, the rest of you, I assume we’ll be eating shortly.”

**> == >**

Somehow, in the bustle of people pushing forwards towards seats you end up sitting at the end with Sollux at the foot of the table and John on your other side. He’s talking at you animatedly still, gushing excitedly about how much he loves his cousin’s cooking. 

“Jade’s side of the family got the cooking part. They go off and have these adventures, or at least they used to! So they make these like really exotic dishes and really like cooking stuff.”

“My favorite’s still good old-fashioned barbeque!” Jade says as she drops down a huge turkey and plants her fluffy rump down across from you. “And my step-brother can’t cook at all. He’s okay with canned tuna and pumpkin. So really, I just got the cooking part.”

“My side got the baking part, which is just, yuck. Just yuck.” John complains as Dave sits across from him.

“Dude, that’s just what your crazy ass thinks. Your dad’s cakes are the fucking bomb, napalm all up in that shit.”

“Oh, I’m sure we think so because nobody ever baked for us, Dave.” Rose said primly after she sits down next to John. Terezi’s opposite her, pursing her lips curiously at the whole affair. “Mother and father were never one for sweets. And Mom, well…”

“Yeah, dearest darling mommy ain’t the best baker. Bro’s shit, too.” They roll their eyes (you can even tell that Dave’s doing it behind his shades; his entire head moves with the affair) and you think it’s a conversation they’ve had before and are having again just for the sake of everyone around.

You glance over and see Sollux with his phone out, tapping away furiously. He texts at about the speed of light and you know better than to reprimand him for it. Kanaya’s tried once, which resulted in about half an hour of passive-aggressive arguing that ended up in failure in the end. You roll your eyes, give up any chance of possibly talking to him again for the night, and look towards the head of the table.

Kanaya appears looking like a dream, hair done up exactly the same as before but more elegant somehow. She sits down at the head of the table, exactly where she belongs, and pats down her skirt. She has a black lipstick kiss mark on her left cheek and you don’t think she knows it’s there. You’re not going to tell her.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says with a half-hearted glare towards Rose, who doesn’t even have the decency to look the slightest bit guilty. “Shall we?”

You half expect people to say thanks. Some families do, those who’re Really Into the holiday. You do when you’re at home; your brother insists on it. You don’t see much in the tradition, it’s more like a moment to profess how thankful you are just so you can think that you’re slightly less of a shitty person than you actually are. You’re personally thankful for having friends who can deal with you when you’re such a pathetic wreck all the goddamn time.

But nobody says thanks. They just go straight for the meat, Terezi and Jade already squabbling over Dave as to who gets at the bird first. He’s leaning back, only the barest hint of surprise on his face, which means that this has happened before. Probably many times. You remember Terezi and food. You dig in yourself, going quietly for the cranberries.

**> == >**

John’s too close for comfort. He keeps leaning into you when he talks, almost bouncing in his seat as he scarfs down stuffing and dark meat around his words. He’s got table manners, you notice, which is more than you can say for everybody. Rose keeps giggling to herself up at the front, glancing down the table. Kanaya looks vaguely pained, holding her knife and fork perfectly. And then there’s Jade and Terezi, basically attacking their food but at least Jade knows how utensils work. Terezi’s got a drumstick in both hands and she’s setting sharp fangs into that with more gusto than anybody else at the table.

Sollux pushes his chair away a little bit. “Hey KK I think I’m gonna split, do you think you can find your own ride home?”

You give him the best “OH NO YOU FUCKING DON’T YOU ASSLICKING NOOCKBITING PINEAPPLE DO NOT LEAVE ME HERE I WILL LITERALLY DIE” look you can muster. It’s not very effective.

“I can give him a ride home, no problem!” John pipes up from your side. Your heart stutters a little bit in abject terror for reasons you’re not quite certain of but it definitely has to do with how he keeps giving you weird special looks and also he’s really cute (no he’s not) (yes he is).

“Cool, then I’m going to cut out early. Dinners aren’t really my thing.” And he’s leaving, your lifeline is leaving, you’d turn pleading eyes towards Kanaya but she’s so far away from you and there’s a shitton of people between you and her. Like a whole table full. You’re surrounded by people you don’t really know and Jade turns her attention to you, pointing a fork in your direction.

“So, Karkat! Have any dirt on my cousin?”

You don’t, you’ve only just started talking to the guy, but he protests loudly so you make shit up. Certainly, Jade would love to hear the story in which he fell face-first into a trash can with a cup of coffee on his head, which was totally a thing that absolutely happened.

Strider offers his vote of confidence, which makes you think that he really isn’t _that_ mind-bogglingly terrible.

Entrees move over the table and then off of it, plates are filled and emptied and refilled and by the end you’re absolutely certain you are never moving again. Ever. In your life. Oh god you’re so full if anybody moves you, you might literally burst. Holy shit Jade can cook. You’re going to die.

Everybody else seems to be faring better. You blame their species as a whole, everyone except for Kanaya and Rose. They stopped early, the former going about sipping a wineglass of blood and the latter just drinking what you thought was wine but she’s giggling terribly and you think it’s a martini with something red in entirely the wrong glass. It’s everybody who kept eating and who doesn’t seem like they’re going to die of a ruptured stomach that you hate.

John doesn’t eat any dessert. He’s eaten like twice you have though and he’s significantly slower, resting elbows on the table and joking with Dave, he’s still got that stupid look on his face and he’s still in your goddamn space. You feel like you’re breathing around slime hair and you even scoot your chair away slightly but somehow that’s completely ineffective. He’s not even looking at you, what the fuck, he’s talking at Strider and Jade’s talking at you and you wonder if Strider’s even listening because you’re fucking not.

Are they certain they’re not secretly siblings that got separated at birth or some shit? You find yourself contemplating it, making up some really ridiculous scenario involving cloning and time travel at the table as you stare down at a meager slice of apple-raisin pie. It has ice cream melting off the side and apparently that’s exactly where the mystery of life is contained, if not at least the mystery of the Egbert-Harleys.

Wait, you’re being elbowed in the side. You make a vaguely coherent sound, as if… fuck, as if you were fucking elbowed in the side, what the fuck are you supposed to think, you can’t fucking do metaphors when you’re convinced your stomach’s going to rupture from too much goddamn food.

“What?” You snap, caustic as ever. It’s your only defense against gelatinous elbows with sharp ass points (you forget sometimes that slimes do still have a skeleton under their liquid skin). You hadn’t been paying attention.

John looks vaguely like you stepped on him. “So, uh. I don’t know what time you wanted to get home? And I’m totally up for hanging out here for a while if that’s okay, ‘cause I said I’d drive you and everything.”

Oh.

Shit.

You somehow managed to forget like an idiot that your ride totally ditched you and it’s (you check your watch, remember you’re not wearing a watch, and instead look up to the clock hanging on the far wall) almost 8PM already are the buses even running? It’s the weekend after a holiday after all.

You don’t want to be rude. You can survive the while.

“Whatever, it’s fine, I’ll hang out for a bit.” You say, waving a hand in his direction. You figure you’ll all end up back in the living room and you can just. Fuck. Talk to Kanaya?? She’s leaning towards her girlfriend (oh god you hope they don’t start making out again Kanaya’s sober but Rose is still all giggly and she doesn’t look smashed or anything but she’s definitely not in her right state of mind) and completely ignoring all of your attempts to telepathically communicate. There should be holes in her head with how hard you’re staring.

She’s not paying attention to you.

Fuck.

It’s not going to be too long. Of course it’s not. Nope. Night’s gonna go by fast quite possibly because you’re going to be partially asleep through the entire thing. They’ll just ignore your ass and you can snooze slightly in the corner or something. It’ll be great, you’ll be fine. Dandy, even! The dandiest motherfucker since the fifties or some shit.

Of course you’re not fucking dandy, though, because as soon as they decide they want to move to the living room you have to come along (because John and Jade said so) and as soon as you set your ass on a chair you have a lap full of wolf.

“Harley, you leaving me for Karkles over there now?”

“Yeah Dave, his lap’s so much comfier than yours!” Jade calls over her shoulder, poking you in the cheek. She leans in close, uncomfortably so (she’s already on your lap so she’s really fucking close as is but seriously you can feel her breath on your face), and you kind of want to lean back and away but the chair won’t let you. “Hey Karkat wanna know something about Dave?”

“I already know he’s ticklish.”

She sticks out her lower lip and wow she’s seriously pouting what’s with this girl and digging for dirt on her cousin and boyfriend and giving dirt on her cousin and boyfriend? “John told you, didn’t he?”

He showed you, actually. First day. Asshole wings. Tables. You’re getting flashbacks. “Yes,” you grit out with clenched teeth, fangs gnashing up against the nubby others.

“That assbutt!” (Words you never expected to come out of her mouth.) “Wanna know stuff about John?”

You glance up long enough to see the mortification that sears across his face before you nod furiously. It’s all you need to make the decision. Why the fuck not??

Of course, John launches himself at his cousin with hands outstretched chanting a mantra of “no no no no no no Jade no don’t you dare bad wolfie worst cousin worst cousin ever-”

“Oh, now I _have_ to tell him!” She laughs, beating away his hands as they slosh over her face grossly. Her knee is digging into your stomach oh god you’re going to puke (no you’re not, you’ve got a stomach of steel but it sure feels like it). “Karkat, Karkat guess what?”

“Jade no, no Jade, Jade you’re a terrible terrible werewolf-”

“Yeah, go Jade!” Dave whoops. Terezi joins in, loudly taking bets. You have become the stage for a terrible pseudo-sibling rivalry and your stomach is in pain for it. Hell, if you still had human junk your balls would be crushed and there would be no baby Karkats, good bye the line of Vantas, y’all are gonna die because Jade Harley’s knees are flying all over the goddamn place.

You know what? Fuck this.

You stand up, sending Jade sprawling to the ground and into her cousin. There’s a disgusting _gloop_ noise as her body slightly sinks into him, most notably her hand through his arm and onto the floor with a splat. They’re staring at you like children who just got caught by their mom and no, no you’re having literally none of this anymore.

“What the actual blistering FUCK,” aaaaaaaaand there you go, “IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, YOU MENTALLY CHALLENGED LIQUID FECES? DO I HAVE A FUCKING SIGN ON MY GODDAMN FOREHEAD, PLEASE FUCKING BEAT KARKAT VANTAS HALF TO FUCKING DEATH ON THE DAY IN WHICH WE INGEST COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF FOOD AND BARELY REFRAIN FROM COMITING ALL OVER OUR GODDAMN SELVES WITH SHEER FUCKING WILLPOWER? ARE YOU ASSHATS TRYING TO MEET MY GODDAMN DINNER AGAIN? WHAT THE NOOKFESTERING FUCK IS EVEN RATTLING AROUND IN YOUR GODDAMN THINKPANS?!” You’re gesticulating, mostly pointing at their faces, and there’s an otherworldly rattle in the back of your throat that correlates directly to the Actual Demon side of you, the part that doesn’t correspond to any creature of myth so they slapped the world Demon on it and told you to hide it away if you wanted any fucking respect. You barely pause for breath. “NOTHING, PROBABLY, LITERALLY NOTHING IN YOUR FUCKING HEADS BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN RAGGING ME THE ENTIRE GODDAMN NIGHT. YOU,” you stab a finger at Jade’s face and almost poke out her eye, “HAVEN’T LEFT ME ALONE FOR A FUCKING SECOND, NOPE, THERE’S KARKAT TRYING TO RELAX LET’S JUMP INTO HIS LAP AND INVADE ALL OF HIS PERSONAL SPACE BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT’S A MYTH OVER HERE AND YOU,” you round on John, whose sheepish grin disappears in half a second as soon as he’s made eye contact with your teeth, “YOU’RE IN ON THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING, PERSONAL SPACE WHAT PERSONAL SPACE, LET’S CROWD KARKAT AND BOTHER KARKAT AND JUST BE AN ASININE LITTLE FUCKTAR-”

Your spectacular rant gets cut off as Kanaya slaps a hand over your mouth and proceeds to do some expert damage control. Your glare sweeps the living room and, oh would you look at that, everybody looks uncomfortable or pissed (except for Rose but that’s because she’s drunk as fuck) and it’s your entire fault. Go Karkat, you’re a failure at everything! Why did you even leave your fucking room today you should have burrowed under the covers instead because you just fucked literally everything up and ruined probably ruined their night. Good fucking job.

Of course Kanaya notices when you take a sharp right from Fucking Pissed to Self-Loathing without even looking; she can feel it on your face. Her hand falls from your mouth and you turn around, resolutely not looking at anybody.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you mutter with your arms crossed in front of you. Your eyes are glued to the poof of fur around her collar. “But can you please take me home now?”

She agrees.

The ride home is tense and basically feels like a nightmare. She asked her guests to stay as long as they’d like, making a special request that somebody stay and watch Rose while she was out. She apologized for her need to leave and for you like a fucking _queen_ , you love her so intensely platonically your heart could burst and you feel like literal trash. At least the traffic isn’t bad.

“They mean well,” Kanaya says finally as you stare at the red traffic light as though it personally offended you. “Jade and John. They just… got carried away.”

“No shit.”

“ _Karkat_.” She says your name like a warning and you cringe. “You know how much I hate segmenting my time. I would like it if all my friends could get along, especially the ones that mean so much to me.” She levels a look at you that you feel more than see. “And they are Rose’s best friends, sometimes I believe her only friends and it really would mean a lot to me if you would at least try-”

“They’re not bad.” You interject quietly. Her talk stops, silently asking you to continue. “John and Jade and even Dave. I know they’re not terrible people or anything. Fuck, I’m pretty sure I could get along with all of them. I did for most of the night! It’s just.” Just that you have a hair-trigger temper when it comes to certain things and becoming a battlefield was one of them.

“I know.” God you love this woman. “So, you don’t hate them?”

“What? No!” Of course you don’t fucking hate them, they just get on your nerves!

“Oh good.” The silence reigns for a good minute. “So if I give you their chumhandles…”

“I’m not going to message them, Kanaya.”

“I’ll give them your chumhandle then.”

“I’ll message them give me the handles.”

She smiles at you and oh that was her plan all along, the witch. Stupid perfect meddlesome best friend knows you way too well. She writes both of their handles down and hands them to you after she pulls up to your building and makes you promise, in explicit terms, that you will in fact sit down and message at least one of them.

“Sometime this month-“

“Yes okay Kanaya, I will message them sometime this fucking month!”

She smiles, a real wide on that puts her teeth on display, even the sharp vampire (rainbow drinker) ones. With a thank you and a quick lipsticky kiss to your cheek she ushers you out of the car (“I have guests to return to, if they’re even still at my house and also I must go check on my inebriated girlfriend”) and you go home to a quiet, empty place.

You crash on the bed and fall asleep in minutes without even getting undressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Chapter three's coming; it should be out sooner than this because we're out for the summer and actually have time to write around homework now.
> 
> My tumblr, where you can ask questions about this 'verse: yourbloodthirstykitten.tumblr.com OR yourartistickitten.tumblr.com  
> Kera's tumblr, where you also can ask questions: keramoondust.tumblr.com or Lovekilled.tumblr.com


	3. Part 3

** > Be Karkat a few days later**

You are now Karkat a few days later. You happen to be sitting in front of a computer, the one that happens to be yours, glaring impudently at a piece of paper with impeccable jade green handwriting.

_John: ectoBiologist  
Jade: gardenGnostic_

You would like to pester neither of them. What would you even talk about? Is there anything you could even talk about? You don’t know how to talk to people! The amount of people you converse with on a regular basis that isn’t because you’re literally forced to by being in their presence you can count on one hand. Probably. You haven’t tried. The number of people you converse with of your own free will as in you initiate a conversation you can most definitely count on one hand. How do conversations even start? You don’t know! Who do you even talk to first? Why is communicating with people so goddamn hard?

** > Karkat: Message John **

Okay but do you really have to? You’ve got like an entire six hours before the month’s out. There’s time, loads of time! All the time in the goddamn world! Six entire hours to write out like, fuck, a script or some shit!

Yeah.

Awesome.

Why the fuck did you open a new chat and why are you slowly typing out…

Aw fuck.

\--  carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering  ectoBiologist [EB]  at 16:13 ! --

CG: SO, HELLO.    
CG: IT’S, UM. KARKAT.    
CG: HELLO?    
CG: ARE YOU EVEN FUCKING THERE?    
CG: ANSWER ME YOU SHITHEEL. 

\--  ectoBiologist [EB]  is an idle chum ! --

CG: GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.    
CG: I’LL JUST SIT IN THE FUCKING CORNER FOR LIKE THE NEXT FOUR YEARS IN SOLIDARY MISERY NOW THEN SHALL I, CONSIDERING I’M THE KING OF ALL FRUITY ASSHOLE RUMPUS PARTIES THAT INVOLVE SHOVING ONE’S HEAD INTO ONE’S ASS. 

\--  ectoBiologist [EB]  is no longer an idle chum ! --

EB: oh hi karkat!    
EB: how’d you get my chumhandle?    
CG: KANAYA GAVE IT TO ME LAST WEEK AFTER SHE DROVE ME HOME.    
EB: you asked for it?    
CG: OF COURSE NOT, THE WITCH BULLIED ME INTO TAKING IT AFTER MY DISPLAY AND MADE ME PROMISE TO MESSAGE YOU.    
CG: YOU OR YOUR COUSIN, BUT I COULD THINK OF EVEN LESS THINGS TO SAY TO HER.    
EB: kanaya’s not a witch! jade’s a lot more like a witch than she is.    
EB: oh yeah speaking of that night, i wanted to apologize.    
EB: jade and i were kind of assholes and it really wasn’t right of us to squabble over you and i'm sorry. you had every right for blowing up at us.    
CG: OH.    
CG: APOLOGY ACCEPTED, I GUESS?    
CG: THAT’S PRETTY MATURE OF YOU.    
EB: what, you think i can’t be mature?    
CG: WELL YOU CERTAINLY DON’T ACT LIKE IT!    
EB: i'll have you know i've been trying to apologize for like the last week! every day when i saw you at work i was going to say something.    
CG: WELL WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU?    
CG: ALSO, IT’S BEEN LIKE, TWO DAYS. TWO FUCKING DAYS.    
EB: because you just gave me this really dirty look and i remembered that you hate people talking to you when you’re working so i figured i'd just like do it later or something.    
EB: oh shut up i’m exaggerating for dramatic effect.    
EB: and then i'd forget that i have literally no way to contact you or anything so welp guess it’s time to try the next day.    
EB: and then the cycle repeated itself until now i guess.    
CG: OH.    
CG: WELL, THANK YOU I GUESS?    
EB: hehehe no problem! 

You stare at the chatlog, rubbing your eyes with one hand. You have no idea where to take this conversation next. How do you become friends with somebody you’re actively trying to become friends with?

Talking to people is hard. It’s hard and nobody understands.

Oh hey look you didn’t have to say shit.

EB: so uh i was thinking…   
CG: SHOCKER.    
EB: shut up i knew you were going to do that! bluh!    
CG: MY RANCOROUS LAUGHTER WILL LAST FOR DAYS AT THAT ONE LINE. I’M A COMEDIC GENIOUS. ALL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME.    
EB: you’re such a dork wow let me say what i was gonna!    
CG: BE MY GUEST.    
EB: …   
EB: ANYWAY i was going to ask if i could make it up to you maybe? i dunno, treat you to something or another. kanaya said you’re always overworked so i figured something like that would be nice? 

You consider it. What, though? Fuck, if he could take you shopping that’d be great, especially if shopping took place somewhere other than Skaia mall. Maybe you could go to one of the other districts, if he had a car? Obviously he has a car; he offered to drive you home. Christmas was coming up; you could get some shit done. And get the groceries while you’re out.

Or you could bully him into taking you to a movie; there’s still a few in theaters you’re dying to see before you have to settle for crappy internet bootleg version or wait even longer for the DVD (typically you watch the bootleg then actually go buy it because it’s just so beautiful you have to own it god damn it). You pull up movie times. 

Oh hell yes Into the Woods. You are totally bullying him into taking you to a movie. And it’ll be so much better than when Sollux dragged you out because holy shit there aren’t any asinine idiots crowding all your personal space!

CG: THERE’S A MOVIE I WOULDN’T MIND A RIDE TO.    
EB: a movie, really?    
CG: WHAT? SO I LIKE MOVIES. I DON’T GO TO VERY MANY BECAUSE OF SCHOOL, AND WORK, AND THE FACT THAT I, YOU ASININE FUCK NUGGET, DON’T HAVE A CAR.    
CG: DON’T FUCKING JUDGE ME MOVIES ARE AWESOME.    
EB: oh no i'm not denying that! i love movies they’re totally awesome. what movie?    
CG: INTO THE WOODS.    
EB: what’s into the woods?    
CG: IT’S A REALLY FUCKING GOOD MOVIE BASED OFF A PLAY. FUCKING MASTERPIECE.    
EB: oh.    
EB: so you’ve seen it already?    
CG: WELL. NO. I JUST KNOW IT’S A REALLY FUCKING GOOD MOVIE.    
CG: IT HAS MERYL STREEP IN IT THERE’S NO WAY IT CAN BE TERRIBLE.    
EB: wasn’t she the bitch in devil wears prada?    
CG: MIRANDA PRIESTLY IS A HARDENED BUSINESSWOMAN WORKING A TERRIBLE FIELD BUT IT IS HER PASSION, DO NOT EVEN CALL HER A BITCH TO ME SHE IS SIMPLY THE BEST AND WILL SACRIFICE ANYTHING THAT ENDANGERS HER MAGAZINE IN THE SLIGHTEST.    
EB: rose liked the book more

Was there then a two hour debate on the merits of Devil Wears Prada, book versus movie, followed swiftly by the merit of book versus movie in general? Of course there was! You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t defend the movie with your dying breath because MERYL FUCKING STREEP.

But the conversation’s pretty boring for anybody who isn’t you, so the narrative is going to pull a fast one.

** > ==> **

He picks you up at work as soon as your shift ends. He’s been sitting there since lunch actually, coming in with Strider and waving the phoenix goodbye after about an hour. He’s been wasting napkins by shooting baskets and furiously playing on his (waterproof) DS. You’ve heard more than one “SUCK IT, TRAINER!” followed by a very embarrassed look, so you’re pretty sure he’s playing Pokemon and disturbing your patrons. He’s just lucky Meulin’s on shift today; Nepeta would have torn him apart.

You’re dressed in a sweater and grey jeans. He’s wearing a button up shirt you haven’t seen before.

“Ready to go?”

“Do I look like I’m itching to stick around?” You grumble as you wave goodbye to your boss. “Come on let’s get lost before the coffee fumes get to my head.”

“Okay, okay.” He laughs and nudges you slightly, a light tap with his gooey elbow. “You wanna go home and change?”

“Nah.” You brush off your sweater. He’s making a face at it, one with screwed up contemplative lips. It’s the sweater you’ve had since you were 13 and you love it, damn it, no matter what anybody (even Kanaya) says. “Don’t say a word, it’s an awesome sweater and nothing could be worse than that monstrosity of an apron I was wearing like ten minutes ago.”

John snorts so loudly a bubble pops in his neck. Ewwwww. “It was a perfect monstrosity. I had to beg Dave not to take a picture of it and put it on his stupid blog. Who even thinks of ‘Have a caffeinated Catmas?’ He tried to change my mind. ‘But dude,’ he pleaded, ‘It’s perfect. Why is it Catmas? Why is it caffeinated? Why was there an orange cat swimming in a Christmas mug? And why was it pink? It raises so many questions. Only the internet may know.’ But I convinced him not to because I’m pretty sure you’d punch us in the face if you caught that.”

“Most likely.” You’d noticed Strider trying to position himself, phone in hand as John kept schlooping his fingers around the device. You had figured they were just being stupid. Surprise surprise, they were, in fact, just being stupid. You win the fucking Nobel Prize. “Actually, it’s certainly. I would have punched you two so hard you’d be seeing righteous stars for the next four years and shitting sparkles out of your ass. What theater are we going to?”

“Uhhhh.” John shrugs. “The closest one?”

“The one in this mall is shit.”

“The… second closest one?”

You do some mental mapping, because apparently John’s too dense to have figured out where the pair of you were going beforehand. “The AMC one a couple blocks down in the Meteron?” He shrugs emphatically. Your forehead makes contact with the heel of your hand. “Nice planning, shitlick.”

“I thought the one here would be fine!” He’s gone blue with a flush. “It seemed fine. I’ve been here.”

“The theater here isn’t even fucking playing _Into The Woods_ , you shameful asswagon. Plus I asked you to _drive_ obviously that meant we’re not going to the theater here.”

He does his weird-gross nervous laugh, following you towards the escalators. He walks alongside you, hands shoved into his pockets. The walk is mostly silent for the next block, with some choice commentary from you about the intelligence of most pedestrians and tourists in your city, but you do manage a glance or two back and see that his face keeps doing the strangest twists in something vaguely resembling nerves. Or constipation. Whatever.

There’s a restaurant area in front of the theater. You’re very aware of this, you’ve been here so many fucking times, but most noticeably there’s a Cako stand that you have to pass by. Every time you do pass it by, you usually stare at the macarons wistfully as you pass through, resolving to buy one next time when you can afford it. You can never afford it. As usual, you end up slowing down considerably as you walk by, eyes fixated on the things. They’re fucking delicious and you love them.

You even for a second forget that it’s actually pretty weird behavior and that you have company until John awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you, uh. Want some macarons?” You can see the slime stick together on his nose as he scrunches it. God, slime anatomy is so fucking weird.

“No, I’m staring at the fucking macarons because they’re fucking pretty. Of course I want one, you asinine fuckwit,” you say on autopilot, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t matter, though, I’m broke.” There’s a watermelon flavored one with your name on it. _Next time_ , you mentally promise it. _Next time for sure_.

“I’ll, uh, buy you some?” There’s a definite question mark there, and when you turn to fix your best _“are you fucking with me”_ look at him, he just awkwardly shrugs. “If you’d like.”

You stare at him for a second longer in partial disbelief. He’s offering to buy you French macarons, basically heaven in a tiny pastry. Hell yeah. “Yes and please.” You turn to the lady standing behind the counter before he can change his mind. “Can I have… um, three of the watermelon ones and three of the lavender-mint ones?” You don’t exactly feel that guilty indulging (yes you do, you’re lying your ass off, but just this once you’re going to enjoy yourself god damn it). John fucking Egbert must be loaded. He has to be, he spends how much money weekly on coffee he doesn’t even drink?

He buys your ticket too. (He’d better; he offered to take you out. You still offered to pay for yourself, out of common courtesy.)

“So, the one in twenty minutes or the one after that?” He asks you, entering times in the self-serve ticket machine.

“Twenty minutes, dumbfuck.” You say quietly, or at least quiet for you. There are little ones around and you have macarons. “Why would we even go for the later one?”

“I dunno, less kids?” He shrugs emphatically. You stare at the way his shoulder squishes with the motion. It’s fascinating, that’s all. He has a membrane, not skin.

“What the ffffff-” you pause, noticing a kid no older than nine just a few feet away mid-word. “-ffflip are a bunch of kids doing at a theater on a Monday night?” Who even goes to theaters on Mondays? Well besides apparently you, because you have no life. You at and a metric fuckton of people, why is this theater so full, John and you end up sitting in crappy seats in that awkward almost-the-back row.

“So, uh.” John starts, stops, starts again. The fucking master of small talk, everybody. “How do you know Kanaya?”

You swallow the macaron you have stuffed in your mouth. “The Maryams have been basically glued onto my assfu- backwards family since before I was born. Kanaya’s mom’s only about five years older than my dad but she’s been his unofficial mother since like. I dunno, their high school?” You shrug, raising an eyebrow at the two liter of Pepsi he’s hauling out of his bag. “So ever since I’ve been little I’ve just known Kanaya. Like our respective older siblings, we’re like… I dunno. We’re family. She’s a saint and the perfect older sister.” You stuff another macaron in your mouth. Fuck, these things aren’t going to last through the previews, let alone the movie.

“I met her through Rose!” John says, too happily. As if you didn’t already know. “They met online, I think Rose said. And like, lived in the same city for ages before they realized that and could actually meet in person. I don’t know the details. Rose tells Dave more than she tells me.”

You know the story of how Rose and Kanaya got together. You were there, Kanaya excitedly telling you about this perfect girl she knows. Then suddenly they were dating. (It wasn’t sudden; you watched it grow like a perfect romance over years of feelings and heartsickness. It would bring a tear to your eye, if you were the sort of person to cry over your friends’ happiness.)

(You are.)

He keeps talking to you. When he’s not being an annoying assclown, he’s not bad company. You _guess_. You do, however, have to slap a hand over his (squishy) face to get him to shut up when the previews start. It’s rude to talk through previews and for the next few hours you don’t officially exist. It is you and Into the Woods and Meryl Streep as a witch and Anna Kendrick as Cinderella and uuuuuuuugh the most beautiful musical songs you’re going to fight not to at least hum along to.

Two and a half hours later it’s plain that the movie choice was great if only because John didn’t say a single word. There were kids talking (loudly and behind you and you did want to murder them), but everybody on screen was as perfect as you thought and you two only awkwardly tapped elbows a few times while wrestling for the armrest.

And then after you left (tears in your eyes, the ending touched you in your goddamn soul), John breaks your post-movie reverie. The bastard.

“Hey, you hungry? There’s a place a little ways away with really good burgers.”

You purse your lips, broken from memorizing every shot of that movie (you’re buying it you don’t even care). “I could eat,” you say with a shrug, “But I’m fucking broke. I’ll just scrounge when I get home.”

“That’s okay! I can pay for you. We can take my car; I’ll drive you home after.” His smile is bright and white. Damn him.

You shrug again. “Lead the way.” Cars are better than the bus system, even though you don’t care that much. You’re used to being around people you don’t like; that’s your entire fucking life.

He leads the way to a parking garage maybe a block away. (How much money must he have paid to keep is car in a parking garage by Skaia?? Probably more than you make in a week. What the fuck.) Then he leads the way up a few levels and- you do a double take. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re not even surprised.

“A Prius?”

“Shut up,” he whines. He’s going blue in the face, a crawling flush. “My dad got it for me, okay? It’s great on gas.” It sounds like this isn’t the first time he’s had to defend his car. You wonder what Strider has to say about John’s blue Prius. When you crawl in, you realize it’s a small little thing and Strider probably has entire books of shit to say about how unfriendly it is to people with wings. You wouldn’t be surprised to find the entire work stored under the front seat, actually.

The restaurant he takes you to is all the way out across the city in the hippie district, a place you’ve never been. You’ve lived here your entire life but between never having the cash and living out in the middle of suburbia you hadn’t had the chance to eat anywhere other than “home” and “select restaurants when it’s a special occasion.” You hadn’t even heard of the place.

He orders for himself, way too much food in your opinion. He’s got a bunch of small things that tally up to Too Much Money. “So, what do you want?”

You can’t decide. Not because you don’t know what you like, you’re quite aware of that. But the cheapest thing you can see is fifteen dollars and that hurts you inside. “How the shit can you pay for this crap?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He’s grinning again. “Just pick something, dude.”

You pick something. It’s expensive. He doesn’t even bat an eye, shelling out the cash and taking you to a table to wait out the food. It’s right in the middle of the room and really really high. You have to jump to get in the seat.

The silence starts to get awkward after about a minute of the two of you sitting around. You talk about movies. Somehow, much to your non-shock, by the time your food gets to you both John and you are having a very heated discussion about which is better, _Ghostbusters_ or _The Notebook_. Ten minutes later, you’re loud and gesticulating with a quarter-eaten burger as John just kind of laughs at your rage, shoulders bubbling.

You get kicked out of the burger joint.

You can’t say you’re surprised. John laughs all the way home, shoving napkins at you as you scarf the rest of your burger in his car.

“That was great!” He says, following your directions right to his door. “That was so great! Ahhhh, the best.”

You don’t want agree. You want to keep arguing that The Notebook is better. But time has passed and also you’re getting out of the car and he’s pretty right about the entire escapade being pretty great.

He stops you before you open the door and gives you a look you can’t place. “So, uh. We should do this again sometime?”

You agree on the inside. On the outside, you say “Pester me sometime, okay.”

“Okay!” His smile could blind people, nervous and bright. “See you later, Karkat!”

“Later, John.”

You almost go immediately to sleep. You don’t, however, and instead you sit down at your computer. Not to code, holy fuck. You’re just going to unwind a bit, maybe watch some cat videos. Gamzee isn’t around to talk to, if you were going to do that, so you get to entertain yourself for a little bit.

You have a notification on your Pesterchum. Huh.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG]  started pestering carcinoGenesist [CG]  at 20:27 ! –

GG: so howd it go??    
CG: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?    
GG: its jade!! hi!!    
CG: HOW DID YOU GET THIS HANDLE?    
GG: rose gave it to me   
CG: AND HOW DID ROSE GET THIS HANDLE?    
GG: kanaya gave it to her   
GG: you were supposed to contact me you butt but you didnt so here i am contacting you   
GG: i actually got your handle awhile ago but i was waiting :P   
CG: FOR WHAT?    
GG: your thing with john duh!! i wanna know how it went!!!!    
CG: HIS APOLOGY? IT WENT FINE I GUESS.    
GG: his apology huh   
GG: thats what it was   
GG: right   
CG: OF COURSE THAT’S WHAT IT WAS. WHAT THE FUCK ELSE COULD IT BE?    
GG: oh no yeah totally! yeah what else could it be   
CG: WHAT WAS THAT FOR?    
GG: nothing!    
GG: a girl just has ideas you know   
CG: IDEAS.    
GG: yep!    
GG: :)    
CG: ARE YOU GOING TO EXPAND ON THESE IDEAS, HARLEY?    
GG: nope!    
GG: :D   
CG: OF COURSE YOU AREN’T.    
GG: so tell me about it!

You tell her about it.

** > ==> **

“Hey, Karkat!” John says as he leans over the counter a few weeks later. The shop is almost deserted, so you only give him your customary glare, rather than one attempting to burn his head off. “Wanna hang out today?”

“Busy. And didn’t I tell you to pester me?”

“I am pestering!” You want to smear creamer all over that shit-eating grin. In the background, you can see Strider taking pictures of/with his coffee. Was that a fucking duck face? “How about tomorrow, then?”

“I have class tomorrow.”

“After class?”

“I have homework.”

“Day after tomorrow?”

“Why don’t you just use the god-” You make a conscious effort not to swear when you’re on shift. “-dang-“ he snickers messily “-messaging program and stop bugging me at work?”

“I keep forgetting.” At least he’s honest. “And it’s better face to face, right?” He gives you that smile, the one that’s bright and white like he’d never been denied anything before. You want to punch it. Softly. (With your face. (No you don’t what was that.))

Meulin, who’s working with you this shift instead of Nepeta, is giving you a look. You know That Look. In fact you’ve known it since you were six and she learned that a girl may have had a crush on you and she thought it was the cutest thing. She tried to set you up, and it turned out that girl just wanted you for your crayons. That Look makes you extremely nervous and it’s often extremely misplaced.

“John, I’m working right now.”

“I can see that.”

God you’re thankful you’ve been doing this long enough that you can move on autopilot. Meulin’s still watching you, giving you a perfect “:3” face over the cup she’s holding. (Oh no, wait, sorry, a perfect “(`^ω^´)” face, you forget sometimes). “Can you wait?”

Karkat’s hip, meet cat butt. Hello cat butt. Your basically-step-sister is painfully close, one arm slung around your neck. “Karkat, don’t be rude!” She shouts in your ear until you motion frantically to turn the volume down. “Obviously this purrfured customer wants to talk to you, so talk to him you must!” She’s nudging you hard in the small of the back with her tail, giving you That Look, the one that screams unwarranted and completely misguided shipping. Holy shit you’re glad your shift ends before hers.

“Um.” John steps back a little, eyeing Meulin’s grin with slight apprehension. “So, you wanna do next week? Sometime? Like, Saturday?”

Saturday… Are you doing anything Saturday? You turn to ask if you’re working but Meulin’s already shaking her head emphatically.

“He doesn’t have work!” She says, dropping you and giving you the biggest grin you have ever seen on that feline face. “So he’s free! Have fun, Karkitten!”

“... Thanks?” You say, putting the cup down, but she’s already got her back turned to you. “Um, order for Alice?”

**== > **

And so, next Saturday, John takes you around the city again. He drags you to Chinatown and messes around in all the cheap souvenir stores. You feel like a tourist as he throws a dragon mask on you and parades you in front of the mirror with his slime slorping around your face.

You can feel his pulse when he stops mashing you around, holding your head to the mirror.

“See Karkat? You look great!”

You look like a culturally insensitive tourist in cheap plastic. It’s a garish thing, yellow and red and green with the strange eyes that stare into your soul.

He buys it for you as soon as you say so.

“Why the fuck did you do that,” you grouse as the elastic goes over your arm. You’d throw it out if there were any trash cans nearby; it’s an atrocity that should be burned in fire. “It’s hideous.”

“You looked awesome!”

“You’re hallucinating. We need to get your eyes checked. Those glasses aren’t working.”

He just laughs at you some more, the shithead. Laughs in that awkward way of his, messing with his glasses. “They work just fine, Karkat, you just have a thing!”

“A thing.”

“Yeah, a thing!” He bumps you. Why is he so comfortable touching you. Nobody’s this comfortable touching you except for Kanaya (and Gamzee for some reason). “The worst thing. Such a bluh thing. Why do you have this thing, Karkat?”

“You’re so helpful in enlightening me to the thing.”

His smile almost turns wicked. “A thing against being called good stuff! Like awesome! Or cool! Orrrrrrrr…” And he mooshes his hand _into your hair and leaves parts of himself behind in it_. “Cute!”

Your shouting gets you kicked out of that little tourist shop. John only laughs and laughs and laughs some more. You think he gets off on it.

You eat at a small Chinese restaurant and John pays for it all. Do you feel guilty about ordering one of the more expensive soups? Nope, screw that, wontons. Mmm.

“Sooooo,” John says slowly as you slurp noodles. You look up at him through your mop of hair and try not to make horrifically gross noises. “Your co-workers sure are. Um. Interesting.”

You swallow. “The Leijons are insane, you can say it.”

“I didn’t say nothing!” He raises his hands defensively and you quirk up an eyebrow. “Just. I’m just thinking about, um, the one with the longer hair? She was, ah. Interesting.”

“Meulin’s even more insane, you can say it.”

“Is she always so...” He gesticulates for a word. “Invested?”

“Yep.” Slup, more noodles, oh hey look, chicken. “Since I was maybe four.”

“You’ve known her for that long?” A perfect “o” with his mouth. You’re almost impressed. Instead, you just shrug and attempt to stab a wonton.

“Their mom’s dating my dad. I’ve known them my entire life, basically.” You tell him the whole story- he seems interested. You tell him how your mom just kind of left the picture (“nobody really told me the details; I was too young to know and now that I’m older I decidedly don’t want to”), how Kanaya’s mom (“everybody just calls her the Dolorosa, for reasons I really don’t know, I don’t even know if Dad knows her name anymore at this point”) consoled your father and helped take care of his ruffians. How he met Nepeta’s mom during a parent-teacher night at school, where students were encouraged to bring their family to talk to their teachers, and Nepeta had been in your grade and class. How they got along splendidly well immediately and started dating less than a year later. Not that you knew they were dating, of course, you were in first grade and nobody tells you shit. You make that a point, too.

“Nobody fucking tells me anything in this family,” you grouse. “Nobody! Nobody fucking told me they were gay, thanks for that bro, introduce me to your boyfriend when I catch you making out in the parking lot, that’s just great. Oh no, he says he’s taken a vow of chastity. I’m sure he has. I’d believe it too, if I hadn’t seen his ass getting groped on the goddamn couch!”

John accidentally inhales a chunk of broccoli. “Wait, what?” He croaks, forcing it down through water and some pretty impressive throat work. “Kanaya’s sister told me your brother was-”

“Porrim knows better than to believe his horseshit.” You don’t even bother mentioning that Kanaya’s sister is also practically your sister-mom and that you’re not surprised she’s been talking about Kankri. She does that. She practically dotes on him, if doting involved well-timed backhands and feminist rants. (You agree with everything she says.) “I’m sure she’s just keeping his secret. All the Maryam-Leijon-Vantases know Kankri’s a hypocritical fucknard.”

He snorts, dropping his head to the table. Oh would you look at that, it seems like he’s given up eating. You’re tempted to swipe his wontons. “Oh my god I can’t believe you just unironically used _fucknard_ in a sentence.”

You flip him off. It was the first thing to come to mind, screw him. And screw him for watching you, while you’re at it, because you’re trying to eat but he’s making it horrifically awkward because he’s _looking at you_ and you have enough trouble. He pretends he wasn’t when you mention it, but his eyes are very bright and it’s hard not to notice.

He asks for fortune cookies, if they have any. They do, and he gets them for you guys. (The servers were probably going to give the pair of you fortune cookies anyway, because that’s just what happens.)

“You should heed the advice of close friends,” yours reads. You sigh and roll your eyes. That’s not even a fortune, what the fuck. You crumple it without care and resign yourself to perfectly crappy wedges.

You expect him to take you home after dinner. Chinatown’s closing down already- it’s the latest area to open and the earliest to close, you’re almost convinced. It’s only eight thi- uh, nine, you’d expect at least a rest stop to be open. You guys were lucky that you could find and open restaurant at seven-thirty.

You are very, very wrong about the going home part, which you only discover through the drowsy haze of Chinese food when you come to a stop in front of a store.

“What the shit,” you ask helplessly as John jumps out of the car and races around to open your door.

“It’s a surprise, come on!”

“Egbert, how can you possibly move with roughly four ducks and a couple pelicans sloshing around your stomach?”

He shrugs, the little shit, and grabs your arm. The air is cold, considering the suns gone down, and you’re wishing you brought a jacket. You should know better than to go out without one at this point, really, you’ve been living in this city for how long? You survey the scene as you step-hobble out of the car, looking up at the Staples store you’re parked in front of.

“Staples,” you say blandly. He shakes his head and heads for the crosswalk.

“Follow me, Karkat!” You don’t have a choice. He’s got his hand around your wrist and you sort of stumble behind, not going red in the face at all. Nope. It’s not like you have a strange _thing_ when it comes to your hands and your wrists and having them held isn’t slightly uncomfortably intimate. John’s stupid, so stupid, and just wayyyyyy too into touching people. He does it all the time, from what you can tell, and he’s got his _hand_ around your _wrist_ , almost around your own hand, and something secret and whispering is crawling down your back at that.

You also don’t have a crush on him, not even a tiny one, you have never once thought he was cute and the lamplight is not reminding you of that at all.

(on a different note, the yellow light shines a little through his skin and that’s fascinating)

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” he says, marching you up the hill. The entire city is made of hills, and he’s going at a strong pace that makes you whine loudly inside. You’re still full, god damn it, he’s made entirely of energy and determination. You resign to your fate, barely keeping up and tripping over your feet a bit.

You trudge a long up some more hills until you reach a park. It’s a large park from what you can tell.

“A park?” You question. What the hell are you going to do at a park at ten pm? 

“Yep!” He says all smiles, with that familiar shit-eating grin of his.

He takes you through the park until you reach a large play-ground. You end up on the swings. He stands and watches you, smiling the whole time. Eventually you stop swinging and stare at John. It’s awkward and quiet for a minute before he pipes up. 

“We should play Never Have I Ever!” 

“Egbert that’s a horrible idea, for more reasons than one. I’ll break them down for you, 1. There are only two of us, 2. That’s a drinking game… We don’t have booze, and 3. There are only TWO of us.” You snort back.

“I dare you,” he says as he pokes your cheek. “I double dare you!” His fingers leave your face sticky, or at least wet. 

“I’m not playing Never Have I Ever with you, are you five?”

“Twenty, close enough.” He shrugs and sits down on the ground crisscross-applesauce, looking up at you sitting on the swing. “Come on man. We’re doing this. We’re making this happen.” He says the last word funny and giggles to himself. You’d put money on it being a reference.

He doesn’t let you get out of it, not even when you point out that there’s no booze so it’s useless to be playing Never Have I Ever out in the cold at night at a park. He even tries to tickle you into submission when you let your guard down for a few seconds and somehow you end up sitting on the ground with him, slime oozing though your clothes.

“I’ll go first, and then you, until we hit ten. And thennnnnn, because we don’t have booze...” he looks around thoughtfully. “Loser has to tell an embarrassing story!”

“Hell no.”

“Too late, you agreed! Now, never have I ever... lived by myself!”

You keep your point. “Never have I ever gone to a rodeo.”

“Who’s ever gone to a rodeo?” He keeps his point. “Never have I ever... gone skydiving.”

“This game is going _so_ many places. Never have I ever owned a fucking _Prius._ ”

“Hey! That doesn’t count! Low blow!” You raise an eyebrow at him, looking pointedly at his finger. He sticks his tongue out at you, putting it down. “Fine, never have I ever worked at a coffee shop!”

“Never have I ever caused a ruckus in a coffee shop with my bird friend!”

“Never have I ever- hey, that wasn’t a ruckus!”

“What about the time with the tables?” You eye him sideways, eyes narrowed a little. His cheeks puff up.

“Which time?”

“See? Put your fucking finger down.”

“Fine, fine! I’ve... never done drugs.”

You deliberate for a second- you’ve smoked pot before, sure, but only maybe one and a half times before deciding it really wasn’t for you. Unfortunately, it’s been a thing you’ve done. Shit. You put down a finger. “It was one time,” you insist. “And I’ve never shot a gun.”

John loses one. You raise an eyebrow.

“It was an accident. I was ten! My step-cousin has a shitton of guns around, and I was being dumb, nearly took off my own head.”

You raise the other eyebrow. “How are you still alive?”

“I’m lucky?” He shrugs emphatically. “Never met a drug dealer.”

Neither have you. You’ve both never snuck out of the house, either. You have gone skinny dipping, he hasn’t. You’ve never broken a bone, he has. You’ve been black out drunk, he hasn’t, and neither of you have paid somebody to get you booze. He’s never dated anybody younger than him, Terezi’s a few months younger than you. Neither of you have ever been fired (he admits he’s only ever worked for relatives before). He’s never been kissed on a dare, but you have, and he’s... gotten into a fistfight?

“How the fuck did that happen?” You ask, looking him over as he glances away sheepishly. He’s gone a bit blue flushed in the face. “You’re like the poster child of happy go lucky spring and sunshine!” Except, you saw that he’s not. Not entirely, at least, and you think of his skull showing through his slime as he threatens a harpy.

It’s hard to reconcile that with the boy who’s absently rubbing at his face and not meeting your eyes. “This guy was saying shit about Dave and Jade and I, uh. Kind of launched at him and pummeled his face into a reddish pulp?”

You level him the most deadpan stare and nod combo you’ve ever done in your life. Then you roll your eyes, decidedly not thinking about that. And they say demons are violent, yeesh- the most you do is yell so hard your throat gives out.

“I!” John announces, continuing the game, “Have never kissed on the first date.”

Terezi’s making you lose a good number of points here, you think as you put a finger down. You hadn’t meant to- you were going to do things properly, take her out on a few dates and kiss her sweetly on the doorstep when you returned her to her mom, the lawyer who could probably kill you four different ways.

You hurt just a little when you remember how she pulled you into her arms before the movie started and stuck her tongue in your throat without any preamble. She said the inside of your mouth looked funny. Sometimes you think about that.

It was a strange experience.

“I’ve never dumped anybody,” are the next words to come out of your mouth. John looks away and puts a finger down. You’re not surprised, somehow.

“Never turned someone down,” he says almost as an explanation. You put down a finger, remembering a fifteen-year-old Nepeta quietly confessing her feelings as you petted her hair and assured her that you loved her like a sister and you were sorry. She cried in your arms and you felt like the worst kind of person, even though you couldn’t help it.

“I’ve... “ you’re running out of ideas and out of fingers, shit, you’re down to two and he’s down to four. “I’ve never been kissed in the rain.”

“Me neither.” Shit. “I have... hmm.” His lip juts out from below his teeth as he thinks in an exaggerated pout. “I have never... gotten a lap dance... from a girl!”

“But you have from a guy?”

“Dave.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing. You nod, somehow understanding that it’s very obviously a “Dave Strider” thing to give your best bro a lapdance, and look back at your hand. Shit. One finger. Terezi cost you more points. Curse her and her propensity to do random shit.

“I’ve never...” And curse your inability to think of things you haven’t done, shit, fuck, dicks. “I’ve never been brought flowers.”

“Dave,” John explains again as he looks down at his hand and reduces his number. “Dave does shit like that for the ironies. This somehow made him a great and awful boyfriend at the same time.”

“Wait what.” You blink twice.

“Well, he’d do such nice romantic shit, right? But not because he thought it’d be romantic or anything, because it’d be funny. Which it totally was! And I was cool without any romo inclinations to him- I mean he has a hot butt, have you seen that butt, but he’s my bro. And has always been my bro. No romo, lots of homo.”

“You dated that buttmonkey?”

“He has a hot butt!” John protests, poking you. “And he was my best friend so I thought I was romo for him too? Because I liked his butt and I like his personality a lot and shit. But we did a lot better as friends- dating Dave was more like... friends with benefits, I guess. Not really dating. Lots of sloppy makeouts, though.” The things his eyebrows are doing are illegal.

“Please never mention anything you and Strider may or may not have done ever again. Ever. In your life. Not to anybody. Nobody needs that mental image.”

“I can imagine that in all CAPs, hehehe. And!” You swallow almost nervously. “Never have I ever... _brought_ anybody flowers!”

“... Shit.” That puts you at zero and him at three, the backwards monkey snot. Curse your dedication to romance! (Not actually, you really do enjoy it even though it tears out your heart more often than not.)

“You gotta tell a story now, come on!”

“No I don’t.” You look away, arms crossed. “Not on your life.” Not that there isn’t an assload of material to tell. You’ve done some pretty embarrassing shit and you’ve had some pretty embarrassing shit done to you in turn. It’s just that you kind of really don’t want to talk about it. At all. Ever.

Are those puppy dog eyes?

“Come oooooooon, it’s the rules. You gotta!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I see your point, but consider this: No.”

He lunges toward you, fingers outstretched. On pure instinct you launch to the side, scrabbling wildly at the rubber ground until you’re standing, already in motion with arms pinwheeling and feet moving faster than your body.

“Hey!” John shouts after you, a splat on the ground. You don’t turn, you just keep running, scrabbling up the nearby rubber hill towards the top of the slides. “No fair!”

“All’s fair in-“ you grunt, scaling the monkey bars so that you’re standing on top of them. “-standard bullfuckery.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” he says, patting his face back into place. Then he’s under you, looking up through squinted eyes before stretching his arms up- and up and up, christ, you forgot he could do that. You take off again with him hot on your trail, dashing under equipment and over rubber hills. He’s fast, for a slime, but it’s rather dark and you have demon eyes. More than once you hear a “ow, fuck!” from behind, but he doesn’t stop and neither do you.

God, your endurance is low, you’re out of shape. You’re already breathing hard as you clamber up the hill again, standing at the top of the slide. A little nervously, you might add, because you lost track of John a lap and a scramble ago. The cold bites into your clothes, spearing right through your whip-thin and now sweaty frame. You shiver.

“Got you!” Comes from below before you can react, your entire foot engulfed in a hand. The bastard was hiding under the slide! Curse innocuous playground equipment! You try to run, dashing back down the hill, but you slip on fog-damp ground and crash right on your ass, sliding down in the most ungainly fashion.

He laughs, the asshole, and proceeds with jamming his cold jelly fingers in your armpits until you shriek like a prepubescent girl, flailing madly. Your blows just bounce his skin, distend it a little, no unsettling cutting-through-the-slime-skin, for which you’re quite thankful, though he doesn’t even seem phased at how you’re thrashing about wildly with teeth and claws out.

Oh shit, teeth and claws are fucking out, you notice a bit too late. It’s hard to keep up appearances when you’re being fucking assaulted, and you try to say words to surrender (jesus fucking christ is this kid determined) but all that comes out is wheezing and howls of shrieking laughter. When you push past that, you find you also have to muscle through the clicks and snarls your voice box has become.

At least he pauses when you start chittering and buzzing at him.

“Are you... chirping?” He asks, his hands still dangerously places.

It takes a few swallows before you can easily do coherent words. “No,” you lie to his face. “Get off me!”

“Tell me a story.” His fingers twitch threateningly, though his smile only gets wider. You look at it for a second too long, caught between fear and awe, before smacking him away.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you your goddamn story.” You grouse, getting comfortable. Your ass hurts, your sides hurt, your face hurts, and you’re glad it’s dark because you’re pretty sure you’re starting to show some plating and you’d basically have to kill yourself if you did that. It’s bad enough he knows you’re a demon, bringing in the kind you are is something you’ve only done with maybe four people.

He looks on eagerly. Fuck your life with something hard and sandpapery.

You groan. “Okay, so, back in high school, I used to date Terezi-“he lets out this comically loud gasp that you promptly kick him for it. “And we went camping a few times, usually with a group of people because for some reason my dad has this tent big enough to hold the livelihood of at least four to six people and their pets. Anyway, this one time, she and I go out on our own with my dad’s blessing- be safe, use bug repellent, don’t get her knocked up, yada yada yada. And we went camping next to a river, slow moving, had a lot of pools here and there in the bends. She wanted to go swimming, sure, so I brought my suit, yeah? Except she got booze somehow, probably from her older sister, and brought enough shit to get thoroughly plastered. Halfway through the haze she drags me to go swimming, but I’m not so stupid. I go to get my suit. Except it’s gone. All of my underwear’s gone too, basically everything I’d use to swim with. She still wanted to go, and I was drunk enough to follow anyway. That’s how I went skinny dipping- it was one time!”

He waits as you think about how to phrase the next words without him laughing too hard at you.

“That’s not very embarrassing,” he goes finally, before you continue.

“Not done.” He nods and you sigh. Fuck, you hate this story. It rings something hollow in you. “That’s also the night we got black out drunk afterwards, and I have no idea what we did at all, but I woke up the next day with the hangover of a lifetime and Terezi nursing some heavy-duty painkillers. Still without my clothes, I might add. She reveals then, in headache and hangover, that she hid my clothes so that she could force me to skinny dip. And, during the night, I guess some critter got into it because when she went to get them they all had these huge rips and holes in them, what wasn’t absolutely filthy. It was all unwearable. I was forced to go commando the entire weekend, which sounds fine. Sure. If Terezi wasn’t evil and determined to pants me every five minutes.”

Snerk, he goes, trying to keep his cool face.

“Once she did it so suddenly that I actually fell down, bare ass in the air waving like a goddamn flag.”

Pfftsnnnnnrrrrk, he goes, and then just starts cackling. “Oh my god I can totally see her doing that! How old were you delinquents?”

You shrug. “Seventeen-ish.”

“Oh my god,” he says, and that’s that. You sit in weary silence for a while, still huffing a bit from the sudden exertion. Shit, you’ve gotta get some exercise done. Walking apparently isn’t good enough, time to see if you can get into the school gym without being on a team.

A yawn catches you off-guard. What time is it even? You fumble for your phone, blinking in its harsh light. Eleven thirty. Well then. You’ve definitely stayed up later, but fuck it, you’re tired.

“Home. Take me. Let’s go.”

“What? But why?” John says through his own yawn, looking up at you with puppy eyes as you stand. “We only played one round.”

“We’ll assume I won the second one and you can owe me an embarrassing story, I’m falling asleep on my feet.” You’re not, but you really do need to get home. You might not have any pressing homework (you worked double time to get it out of the way for today) but sleep is a thing that happens. Plus there are thoughts that you’re not having that’re trying to creep into your pan.

He complains, of course he does. Grabs you around the middle and whines like a puppy, still on the ground. Something aches a little when he does, and it must be that his eyes are just. Impossibly _blue_. It’s kind of annoying and you want to jab them out and keep them in jars how _fucking creepy is that oh my god you don’t even collect dead things_. You convince him to take you home though, claiming that Meulin scheduled you for tomorrow. She didn’t, of course, but he doesn’t know that. As much fun as you’re having – yes, you’re having fun, just because your laughs are sarcasm-only doesn’t mean you’re not having fun – something about the way you’re just interacting is setting off some strange bells. They make you feel things and you’re not sure what those things are but it’s not pretty.

(You have an idea and you immediately scrap it. No use dwelling on feelings you may or may not have; you’ve learned better not to think about it.)

He walks you to the door, waving enthusiastically as your incredibly high roommate as Gamzee opens the door. You guess he heard you. You wave back at John, make sure Gamzee’s doing okay, and curl up in bed immediately. With your computer.

You fall asleep on it.

** > Be Future Karkat**

YOUR ENTIRE LIFE IS A LIE. A LIE FILLED WITH SCREAMING AND YELLING AND YOUR DAD BEING WAY TOO EXCITED ABOUT INSIGNIFICANT THINGS; WHERE DID PORRIM GET THAT CAMERA?! SHE NEEDS TO PUT IT DOWN AT ONCE.

YOU’RE HAVING TROUBLE BEING FUTURE KARKAT, BECAUSE FUTURE KARKAT IS TOO EMOTIONAL FOR ANYONE TO BE RIGHT NOW.

** > Uh. Be Karkat a little bit farther in the future??**

You hate literally everything.

Your face hits the pillow with your entire weight behind it. You’re so tired and very emotionally drained. Perhaps someday you’ll look back on this night and laugh. Perhaps someday you’ll stick your foot in a blender just to see how it feels. Hey, you never know.

Your phone is going off. You check it blearily, looking at the texts. Oh joy, pesterchum notifications from Sollux.

TA: kk why ii2 my dad textiing me 2hiit like “YOU KNOW KARKAT?!” over and over   
TA: kk why do you know my dad   
TA: kk ii2 there 2omethiing you’re not telling me

Swipe right, hold phone overhead, do not take face out of pillow, start typing.

CG: YOUR DAD IS A DIRTY FILTHY LIAR THAT KEEPS SECRETS FROM US ALL.    
TA: what the fuck   
CG: I TRUST NO ONE ANYMORE.    
CG: NO ONE.    
TA: what the fuck   
TA: doe2 thii2 have two do wiith the thiing he alway2 doe2 every year where he goe2 out for holiday2 wiithout u2   
TA: iit doe2 doe2n’t iit   
CG: NO.    
CG: YES.    
CG: MAYBE. I DON’T KNOW.    
TA: plea2e enliighten me kk and a2 quiickly a2 po22iible 2o my miind doe2n’t 2creen2aver from the boredom of lii2teniing two your garbage   
TA: ii’m haviing a hard enough tiime dealiing with hii2 “ΣOLLUX WHY DO YOU NEVER TELL ME ANYTH♊NG ABOUT YOUR L♊FE?”    
CG: BECAUSE THAT REALLY MAKES ME WANT TO TELL YOU, DOESN’T IT.    
TA: ye2   
CG: OKAY, SO, I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE KNOWN YOUR DAD FOR THE ENTIRETY OF MY LIFE.    
CG: IT’S A GROWING POSSIBILITY AND BY THAT I MEAN IT’S AN ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY AND PSII IS A HORRIBLE SECRET-KEEPING FUCKING TV.    
TA: how the fuck do you know my dad and not put iit together that he’2 my fuckiing dad   
TA: we’re both objecthead2   
CG: OBJECTHEADS ARE PRETTY COMMON SOLLUX; IT’D BE RUDE TO ASSUME.    
TA: objecthead2 wiith the la2t name “captor”    
CG: IT’S A FUCKING COMMON LAST NAME!    
TA: no iit ii2n’t   
CG: YES IT IS. A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE YOUR SHITTY ASS LAST NAME.    
TA: ii ju2t looked iit up kk there’2 liike thiirty people wiith my la2t name iin thi2 ciity and thii2 ii2 a huge a22 fuckiing ciity   
CG: DOESN’T MEAN IT’S MY FAULT FOR NOT PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.    
CG: ISN’T IT THAT YOUR GODDAMN THING, SHITTING OUT ONE LOUSY ASS NUMBER AND PUTTING YOUR UNMITIGATED FECES WITH MORE OF ITS KIND?    
CG: DIDN’T YOU EVER ASK WHAT YOUR DAD DID EVERY SINGLE MAJOR HOLIDAY?    
TA: ii diidn’t really care to be hone2t iit’2 kiind of boriing   
TA: we never really diid holiiday2 at my place anyway even when he diid 2tay home   
TA: wa2n’t a biig deal   
TA: so thii2 ii2n’t on me   
TA: ii can’t fuckiing beliieve you diidn’t get iit oh my god   
TA: then agaiin iit took you how long to realii2e we know each other at work   
TA: you’re really bad at thii2 kk

You block him. You’re too tired to think of a good comeback, mind still reeling. Psii. Uncle Psii, something Captor (it’s been so long since you’ve heard his first name you’ve forgotten it and you’re too prideful to admit that and ask him), the man you’ve known your entire life... is your shitty ass best friend’s dad. Your life is in shambles.

Oh hey John’s messaging you.

EB: merry christmas!    
EB: karkat?    
EB: it says you’re online, come on crabby pants.    
EB: kaaaaaaaarkat   
CG: HELLO DIPSHIT.    
CG: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU TOO.    
EB: how was the ‘rents?    
CG: THE WHAT?    
EB: you were at your parents’ place, right? how was it?    
CG: A FUCKING DISASTER.    
EB: ooooooookay then. what happened?    
CG: CAN I NOT TALK ABOUT IT? THAT’D BE A THING I’D VERY MUCH LIKE NOT TO DO. EVER. IN FACT, IF YOU COULD JUST PLEASE LOBOTAMIZE ME THAT’D BE GREAT.    
EB: what? no, i can’t do that!    
EB: that bad though, huh?    
CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA.    
EB: we used to have some pretty intense christmases back at home, so i might.    
CG: DOES YOUR GUARDIAN THINK THAT YOUR DINNER WENT WELL EVEN THOUGH MULTIPLE PEOPLE, NOT JUST ME THANK YOU VERY FUCKING MUCH, SPENT TWO ENTIRE HOURS SCREAMING, JUST BECAUSE, AND I’M QUOTING HERE, “well at least no+bo+dy go+t any black eyes this time. LOL!!”    
CG: SHE ACTUALLY SAID THAT.    
CG: OUT LOUD.    
CG: AND I’M TALKING AN ACTUAL EL-OH-FUCKING-EL HERE.    
EB: wow.    
EB: your mom is kind of a dweeb.    
CG: SHE’S NOT MY MOM. SHE’S MY DAD’S PSEUDO-MOM.    
EB: what?    
CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT KANAYA’S MOM HERE. THE DOLOROSA, WE CALL HER. FOR REASONS I DON’T EVEN KNOW; DAD’S BEEN CALLING HER THAT SINCE BEFORE I WAS BORN.    
CG: ‘ROSA FOR SHORT.    
EB: oh! i see how it is.    
EB: well i can’t lobotomize you or anything, so do you want me to take you out instead? go do something to keep your mind off of whatever it was that happened.    
CG: WHEN?    
EB: i dunno. asap i guess. how about friday? 

** > Be Friday**

It’s Friday.

He said he’d think of something. Something that is not stressful, something fun. Lots of fun! So much fun you’d forget everything that happened at Christmas, like you’re trying to with all of your might, he swore up and down. You had your doubts, which you voiced, but he insisted. He would.

You think his pan’s a bit broken.

“Egbert.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we parked right in front of a bowling alley?”

He blinks at you innocently as you stare out the window at the building lit up on with bright LEDs smashed in between two plain structures. That’s the way of your city, mash buildings together and hope it goes well. It rarely works. You haven’t been here since you were eleven. “Because we’re going bowling, duh!”

“How does this qualify as a ‘fun’ and ‘not stressful’ activity?” You ask as you get out of the car, following him for some godforsaken reason.

“Have you ever been bowling? It’s so much fun!”

The bowling alley is freezing. “No it’s not,” you grouse as you pull your jacket on tighter. Oh god there’s a small gaggle of prepubescent children bowling, still small and squishy and not yet some weird mess of magic and feathers or scales or goddamn jelly.

“You’re being melodramatic. C’mon, let’s get shoes!”

There are no shoes that fit you properly. Your feet ache, but at least they have shoes for humanoids in your size. John’s got these waterproof atrocities that don’t look like they should work at all, designed for slimes. They’re neon orange.

You hate bowling.

** > ==> **

You still hate bowling but you’re fucking WINNING, SUCK IT EGBERT.

Both of you absolutely suck at bowling. Over half your throws have been gutters, some splits and spares. But you, you just got three fucking strikes _in a row, suck it!_ You’re winning! Ha! You probably get glares from elderly men and women as you do a victory jump, pumping your hands in the air, and you only barely keep the “YES!” locked securely in your throat. But you don’t care. You’re the luckiest bastard in the entire building.

Of course you don’t hit more than three pins a roll for the entire rest of the game, but you don’t even care. Doesn’t matter. You got three strikes in a row. You won, barely, scraping out just a few points ahead of John (who maybe sucks just a little bit less than you; he got no strikes but managed mostly to hit more than five).

“I hope you know I’m going to rub this in your face later,” you assure him as you circle your victory number about two to fifteen times. “The second we get out I’m going to rub it all over your goopy face.”

He grins dopily up at you as he massages his wrist. He’d accidentally lost part of his hand on that last one, skidding on the bowling alley surface and sending his (extremely light, 8 pound, glittery neon pink) bowling ball into the gutter. God, he looks so dumb being happy for you. He cheered when you got your first strike, standing up and literally shouting “WHOO!”, much to the anger of the elderly people. He proceeded to ignore the elderly people, continuing with “You go, Karkat! Yeah!” Does he get off on other people’s happiness? Is that even a thing? It’s probably a thing.

Why is he still smiling at you, you are going to lay waste to his ass the second you get out that door and can unleash your full smug victory on him.

Except the second you step out and open your mouth, finally back in your own comfortable shoes and without ten pounds attached to your arm, John cuts you off with a “We should go get pizza!”

You stare at him, mouth open. “What?”

“Pizza. For dinner. We should do that. That’s a thing that people do, Karkat, pizza for dinner.”

“It’s not even five yet.”

“We could go back and play another game?”

“Pizza for dinner it is.” You’re not risking possibly losing.

Halfway to the pizza place, John swings the car around. “Actually, better idea. Pancakes for dinner. I’ll pay. No, no, I’m paying, just close that mouth. Unless you really wanted pizza?”

“Pancakes are fine,” you say a little bit weakly, confused at the sudden turn of events. John’s talking faster than usual, too. He grins at you, lopsided, and drives the two of you to IHOP, where you partake in the ancient art of stuffing your faces fit to burst with four different kinds of pancake (all at his request, but you’re not complaining, pancakes are fucking awesome). Surprisingly, dinner is uneventful. John doesn’t even start ribbing you once. His sudden acquirement of manners is... a little disconcerting, actually.

Eh, you shrug it off. It’s not that weird.

**> == >**

Something’s definitely _weird_. You don’t know how to explain it. Something is definitely weird about the situation, but you can’t place it, and you think it has something to do with the way John’s standing on your doorstep, rocking back and forth. His hair does this little bounce-slosh with every rock, which is kind of distracting. He’s not talking, that’s what’s weird. You stare at him, vaguely frozen.

“Soooooooo,” he says, arms clasped behind his back. You blink.

“So,” you repeat, your hand on the doorknob. He’s giving you the weirdest look. “Uh, bye?”

“Oh! Yeah. Bye.” He looks nervous and... Expectant? He looks like he’s about to step toward you, kind of, his weight is distributed all wrong.

You open the door and go inside without looking back, not entirely sure what was going on. Once the door was closed, you stand there for a few seconds, holding your leftover pancakes in both hands.

That was fucking _weird_.

You shake it off with a shrug. Whatever, his mental failings aren’t your problem. Now, kitchen. You have pancakes to store. You scrawl “PROPERTY OF KARKAT VANTAS; NO GAMZEE YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO EAT IT” on the top in sharpie.

That done, you scope out some space in the fridge. You’re college students, so it shouldn’t be that hard, but Gamzee somehow manages to fill the entire thing with half-baked pies all the time. You touch none of them, a little worried if you’ll end up high off your ass if you do, but there’s some interesting food tetris to play.

“Sup, best friend?”

You nearly drop a bag of apples, rounding to see Gamzee standing on the other side of the counter. He’s wearing fuzzy little indoor booties on his hooves. They’re purple.

“Don’t scare me like that!” you reprimand, shoving things back into the refrigerator. “I just got home, good to see you alive and well.”

“Good to see you all in one piece too.” He grins sloppily, eyes slightly unfocused. “I wondered what miracles you motherfuckers had all been up to out there today. Didn’t tell me where you were going, but that’s all right. I knew you were all okay. Like little butterflies came and told me you were good, you know?”

You do not. “No idea.” Okay, everything looks like it’s fitting. You start to close the door.

“So, best friend, did that motherfucker all up and get his mack on with you this time?”

You stop mid-motion, staring blankly at a precarious stack of pie. “Did he what?”

“Did that John motherbro-” he says John like _Jawn_ , and you know he’s exaggerating it. “-get his mack on with you yet? All on the doorstep like right out of a fairy tale. Little miracles all wrapped up in a jelly filled- you okay there, bro?”

You’re not okay there. Your legs seem to have spontaneously given out under you, look at that. It’s the floor. You’re staring numbly ahead, hand on the open door. Belatedly you remember to finish closing it, save electricity. Ha. Electricity.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you lie out of your teeth. He looks over and down worriedly, scratching one sharp nail against his greasepaint-covered cheek.

“You sure you’re fine down there?”

“ _Peachy_.” You stand up. “Going to my room.”

“Was that a no, then?”

“Going. To. My. Room.” And you do. Close the door behind you too, for good measure, turn on your computer. It takes too long to turn on, it always has. You’re this close to doing an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle, you can’t afford it to take five whole years to boot up.

So you open pesterchum on your phone in the meanwhile.

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] at 19:38 ! --

CG: KANAYA I THINK I’M IN TROUBLE.    
CG: I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN GOING ON SEVERAL.... UH.... **DATES** THESE PAST FEW WEEKS. 

Oh god that’s what they were, weren’t they. They were dates. You had been going on _dates_. You totally had been- oh god. Oh god.

Fuck. God. What the.

You’re sitting dumbstruck in front of your computer, staring at the login screen. Holy shit, how can you be this dense? How the fuck could you miss something like that? He had even said, fuck, just two days ago, he’d “take you out” again. That’s. That’s date talk. That’s something somebody says when they’re going to take you on a date. And you completely misread the situation.

You spend about five minutes with your head smashed onto the desk, bonking yourself repeatedly with both closed fists for your stupidity. Then you decide you have to actually demon up and do something about it.

Okay. What’s the plan? You have no plan. Kanaya hasn’t responded yet, which means she hasn’t seen her messages, because with an opening like that she would have been all over you for all the details so she can either beat you or him into the right frame of mind. Okay, this will be simple.

You just have to never see John ever again in your life. Totally doable.

Oh god no it’s not, he comes into your work every single day. Oh god, you work _tomorrow_. Is he going to come in tomorrow? Can you call in sick? No, that’d be a disaster; Nepeta always knows when you’re faking. She grew up with you, she knows you better than that. You have to go into work.

You’re going to die.

CG: KANAYA?    
CG: PLEASE SIGN ON, THAT WOULD BE WONDERFUL.    
CG: ANGELS SENT FROM HEAVEN WONDERFUL AND ALL THAT HORSESHIT. THE BEST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN.    
CG: I COULD DO WITH ADVICE RIGHT ABOUT NOW. I’M SORRY I’M ASKING AGAIN BUT WHAT THE FUCK.    
CG: WHAT IF I’M RIGHT AND THEY WERE DATES? HOW CAN I EVEN CONTINUE EXISTING IF I’VE FUCKED UP THAT TERRIBLY SOCIALLY? HOW CAN THEY LOOK AT ME AND NOT THINK I’M SOME SORT OF INBRED CRAB DRAGON MONKEY THING?    
CG: IT’S NOT MY FAULT FOR NOT KNOWING. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? HE NEVER TOLD ME.    
CG: PLUS, WHO’D EVEN WANT MY CRUSTY DEMON ASS? THE MONIKER ENOUGH DRIVES BASICALLY EVERYBODY AWAY. 

Oh god she’s not responding, what do you even _do?!_

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering gardenGnostic [GG]  at 19:52 ! --

CG: HARLEY I NEED A MOMENT. YOU KNOW YOUR COUSIN BETTER THAN ME, AND YOU’RE PROBABLY IN ON THIS BULLFUCKERY.    
CG: PLEASE ANSWER ME HONESTLY AND DON’T TELL JOHN.    
CG: WERE THESE LITTLE OUTINGS DATES?    
CG: OH GOD THEY WERE, WEREN’T THEY?    
CG: THAT’S WHY YOU ASKED ME HOW IT WENT.    
CG: ALL THE SIGNS WERE THERE AND I WAS TOO FUCKING STUPID TO EVEN SEE WHAT WAS REPEATEDLY JAMMED IN FRONT OF MY NOSE.    
CG: WHERE *IS* EVERYBODY?! 

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering conquerorsCutlass [CC]  at 20:01 ! --

CG: YO PEIXES THE ELDER DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT?    
CG: RHETORICAL QUESTION YOU ALWAYS HAVE A MOMENT, COME SIT DOWN.    
CG: I HAVE THE JUCIEST GOS-SHIP FOR YOU IF YOU DO. IT’S JUST PACKAGED WITH A SMALL MENTAL BREAKDOWN, NO BIG.    
CG: MEENAH? 

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering caligulasAquarium [CA]  at 20:09 ! --

CG: AMPORA, ARE YOU THERE?    
CG: YOU’RE NOT THERE, ARE YOU.    
CG: IN THE NAME OF CHRIST’S HOLY DICKSAUCE ON A CRACKER, WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYBODY ON THE GODDAMN PLANET?! SIGN OUT OF PESTERCHUM IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE ON!! 

Who decided that the entire world should be busy _now_ of all times? What cosmic events have aligned to have everybody offline? And yet be signed on?! Who the fuck are you going to yell at, you’re running out of people to pound keys at, and you still have a lot of steam to burn off. Your brain feels like it’s going a hundred miles an hour, you’re freaking out that hard.

\-- carcinoGenesist [CG]  started pestering twinarmageddons [TA]  at 20:12 ! --

CG: I THINK JOHN’S BEEN TAKING ME OUT ON DATES THESE PAST FEW WEEKS.    
TA: wow no 2hiit kk ii thiink liiterally everybody’2 fiigured that out by now   
CG: NEVER MIND FUCK YOU WHY DID I EVEN THINK PESTERING YOU WAS A GOOD IDEA ALL YOU DO IS TROLL PEOPLE BACK.    
TA: that’2 why you love me kk

You block him again.

Right. Well. Nobody to help you with your sudden emotional and mental crisis. Guess you have to handle it completely on your own.

You definitely cannot handle this on your own. You need to go back in time and slap the living shit out of your past self. If you could send a message to yourself about a month ago, it’d just read “IT’S A FUCKING DATE YOU MORON. THEY’RE ALL FUCKING DATES. HOLY SHIT, HOW CAN YOU BE THIS FUCKING DENSE?!” But unfortunately, you don’t have that sort of technology or software. So you just have to deal with it.

Okay, breathe. That’s a thing you do sometimes. In. Out. In. Out. Not that fast what _is_ wrong _with you, you can’t even breathe right._

“Best friend?”

You jerk out of it. Gamzee didn’t even knock, just stuck his raggedy head in through the doorway.

“What do you want?” You snap, uncurling your hands from your hair and crushing the urge to violently punch yourself in the face at least until he’s gone. Gamzee just blinks at you slowly, the dopy smile usually plastered on his face replaced by what seems like genuine concern.

“You don’t sound all right in the head, bro.” He makes to come in but you throw a hand up in his direction and he stops, hovering right inside the door.

“I’m fine,” you lie again. “I just. I messed up, and now I have to deal with it.”

“Them’s the shits.” He takes another step, hooves sinking into the carpet. You don’t have the energy to tell him to get out. “Wanna talk about all that motherfuckin’ shit that’s rattlin’ around in your pan and throwing you so far down that nasty rabbit hole?”

“No. And I’m not down.” You look away as he sits at the edge of your bed, like a large and vaguely ugly water puppy. You’re not down, not really. Mortified is a better word. Abso-fucking-lutely mortified. Embarrassed beyond belief, too. Definitely not sad, though. “Actually,” you say as you dig through the emotional slop that makes up half of your most important internal organs, “I think I’m actually. Maybe. I mean, a little bit-”

“What is it?”

“ _Happy_.”

He beams at you as you stare ahead in shock. Holy shit. Okay, you fucked up, granted, but they were _dates_. You, Karkat Vantas, were going on dates with somebody that you may or may not have had a vague thing for these past few months because his face was cute and although insufferable he’s really kind of endearing? He tries, and the dates were actually some pretty good dates. If you’d known they were dates, anyway.

“God, I messed up. I messed up, they were dates and I totally misread the entire situation. But they were dates! I haven’t been on a date since...” Since Terezi. “forever,” you amend. Gamzee nods, probably with no earthly clue what you’re going on about. You tend not to talk about anything regarding your personal life to... well, anybody. And he has no idea what’s been going on between you and John. “But, holy shit. The person I may or may not have had an interest in was taking me on _dates_. My life is ruined, but. Oh my god if I can salvage this- ugh, I’ll never be able to salvage this, but if I _could_ this would be... fucking...”

“Miracles,” Gamzee says slowly with a grin. You look at him and swear very hard that you’re not smiling, not at all.

** > ==> **

What the fuck.

You came in to work today with determination in every core of your being. You were going to do your work, act like an adult, not have a nervous breakdown, and behave like you didn’t just royally fuck up every chance you had when John and Dave make their customary appearances. If they make their customary appearances. (And if they didn’t, you weren’t going to go home and cry in disappointment about it.)

Imagine your surprise, then, when John comes in with determination in his eyes, completely alone, and shoves a huge bouquet of moon flowers and red roses in your face.

“These are for you,” he says. You blink once like an intelligent, free-thinking character.

“Um.” You say, because you’re brilliant.

“They are for you because I’m asking you out. Romantically. Without any way that it could be misinterpreted. If that’s okay.”

“Uhhhh,” you say again. He shakes the flowers at you a little so you grab them, just for their safety.

You suddenly acquire about sixty extra pounds on your back. “Karkitten,” Meulin purrs loudly into your ear, “I think it’s about time for your break! You’ve been working hard, so take some extra time off! It looks like you need it! Just have a seat in here, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo. She can’t hear you.

“Right over there!” she adds, pointing emphatically at a nearby table. She’s going to read every word you say, you know it. “Do mew want anything to drink, John?”

You don’t hear what he says as you shuffle out from behind the counter, holding the bouquet in your hands like it could break. They’re just flowers wrapped in plastic, They’re perfectly safe, but somehow you handle them so insanely delicately you’d think they were made out of glass. You sit facing the counter, knowing you’d rather watch Meulin furiously “eavesdrop” than have John see her staring at his lips. He sits soon after, fidgeting in his chair.

You put the flowers down, fingering the petals softly.

“I asked Kanaya,” he blurts. You pointedly don’t look up, afraid that you’ll start staring at him in astonishment if you do. “Your favorite flower. I asked. So.”

“Thank you,” you say. Ugh, you can’t keep looking down. Breathe, act like an adult. It’s hard to remember that you’re an actual independent adult when you look up and see him fidgeting like a high schooler in the seat opposite. “It’s the first time I’ve been brought flowers.”

“I know.” And then he smiles, this nervous thing that lights up his eyes and flashes his teeth. He’s blushing terribly. It’d be awkward if it wasn’t so fascinating. “I, ah, realized I wasn’t very forthcoming with my motives. I mean. Kanaya told me, yesterday, after I’d gone home- she was over, with Rose, and asked me how it went and I told her, and she said I have to tell you. Personally. And explicitly. Without any sort of way you could see it any other way. Those were her words exactly,” he adds, looking at you intently. You try very hard to meet his eyes, fail, and end up awkwardly staring at his nose-slash-right cheek.

“I’m kind of stupid sometimes,” you say. You try not to scowl. You scowl anyway, ugh, what is _wrong_ with you? You’d slap yourself if you were at home behind the comfort of your computer where nobody could see you. This is the most awkward conversation you have ever been in, hands down. He’s not saying anything. You’re not saying anything. Meulin is staring intently at you, gesticulating wildly. Then she starts signing, rapid-fire signing, and you can only barely catch the _say something_!! that she’s throwing at you.

Okay.

Something.

“All the time, actually.” WRONG SOMETHING. “I mean, I’m really dense a lot, I’m everybody’s fucking relationship guru but I can’t for the life of me tell when somebody’s hitting on me, in hindsight I mean it’s extremely clear because wow look at that fan-fucking-tastic 20/20 backwards vision, but going into it? Not that you made it clear you overcooked french fry, you’re actually the literal worst at asking people out, wait no I take that back, I bet Strider’s worse than you, but you didn’t even spit out that you were expecting anything other than the bro-iest activities. I mean the movies are pretty dubious but Chinatown? Who takes a date to Chinatown? I still have that stupid mask, darn you; the fraudulent piece of crap is in my room on my desk, and then the park? Running around apeshit isn’t a date. Dates are like movies and cuddling and hand holding and walking through the city talking about ourselves and dinners where we both smile…. God those were dates and the best secret dates but I had no idea they were—”

“Karkat!”

You shut up as he tries to look serious. He fails at it, of course, breaking into a wry smile as his eyes sweep over you. Then he leans forward, putting his hands over your clenched, twitching ones. “Will you go out with me? Romantically. I’m asking you on several romantic dates, plus being my boyfriend please. I have been attempting to woo you since about September but I think this is easier.”

You’re blushing terribly, a little overwhelmed. There’s something in your eye. With a shaky laugh, you nod. “Yes, John. I will go out with you. Romantically. On several romantic dates, plus being your boyfriend maybe. Yes this is much easier.”

There’s a moment where the two of you grin at each other with the dopiest faces you’ve made in the last few years. It’s a sweet moment. You almost expect him to kiss you.

And then Meulin ruins it by squealing exceptionally loudly. “Oh god, my SHIP!” she cries dramatically, fanning herself behind the counter. “Oh my GOD I pawsitively thought I was going to DIE before you two got together!”

Karkat’s head, meet the table. Spectacular faceplant, 10/10, encore, encore! You bang your head there several times quietly as John starts, turning. You don’t see what’s going on, your face is busy being smashed into the glass.

“Right?!” Oh god he’s talking back. “I mean, oh my god, yes. YES!!” You look up long enough to see him throw his hands into the air like the biggest dweeb you’ve ever seen. Ow your head. Banging it back down on the table might have been a little too violent.

“I’m so happy for you!!” She’s squealing to him. To his credit, he hasn’t run away from your insane boss yet. “Can I get you anything? Complementary, totally on the house! Our sweetest coffee or tea orrrrr some of Jane’s pastries? They’re the best, literally the best thing you can chew!”

“Thank you! But no, that’s okay. I’m good. I have enough of my sister’s baking at home.”

Blink. Blink.

Your head snaps up so fast you might have whiplash. “JANE IS YOUR SISTER?!”

** > ==> **

\-- ectoBiologist [EB]  started pestering carcinoGenesist [CG]  at 18:12 ! –

EB: so i was thinking...    
CG: SHOCKER.    
EB: you’re not allowed to do that every time i say that i was thinking!    
CG: I DON’T SEE IT WRITTEN ANYWHERE THAT I CAN’T.    
EB: i just wrote it. right there. it’s in writing now, karkat, it is law.    
EB: anyway i was thinking that i should take you on a date. soon.    
EB: as soon as possible because i have three whole dates to make up.    
EB: if that’s okay?    
CG: THAT WOULD BE... WONDERFUL, ACTUALLY.    
EB: oh good!    
EB: so, are you doing anything on new year’s eve? because if you’re not you should be. with me.    
CG: I DON’T HAVE ANY PLANS YET AS FAR AS I KNOW.    
CG: WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING? OR PLOTTING, AS IT WERE, BECAUSE YOU NEVER PLAN SHIT.    
EB: ice skating! :D   
CG: REALLY?    
EB: yea! it’ll be great, i promise. so romantic. so sweet.    
CG: I HAVE MY DOUBTS.    
EB: oh come on!    
CG: OKAY, FINE, FINE. I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING BETTER, ANYWAY.    
EB: awesome! okay it’s going to be a blast. there’s fireworks and everything.    
EB: you’re going to love it.    
CG: I’LL TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT.    
EB: oh good! you should.    
EB: by the way, karkat?    
CG: YEAH?    
EB: <3   
CG: ... YOU PANDERING SHITBAGEL.    
EB: :D   
CG: FUCK YOU.    
CG: <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much waiting, the conclusion of this Coffee fic! Thanks for your patience. It would have been up a lot sooner if I didn't have to write dates. I'm not very well-versed in the art of datemanship. Please let us know what you thought! More of this Monsterverse should be up soon. ::::33 -yBK

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at yourbloodthirstykitten.tumblr.com if you want to ask questions about this AU!  
> My co-author is at lovekilled.tumblr.com, also open to questions.  
> We love this AU okay?


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